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PEVERIL  OF   THE  PEAK: 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
WAVERLEi",  iVaNHOE,  KENILWORTH,  &c,  &• 


■  h"  my  readers  should  at  any  time  remark  that  T  am  parti 
all,  they  may  be  assured  there  is  a  design  under  it." 

British  V 


IN  TWO  VQLtJMJ 
TOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK 


PRINTED  BY  JAMES  fy  JOHN  HARDER, 

a5.  s.  campbell  and  son,    evert  dl'vckinck; 
an-d  e.  White;  collins  and  hannay,  w.  b.  gillky,  c.  thi/st 
i  ull1xs  and  co.  j.  v  seaman,.  g.  long,  k.  and  r.  lock  wood 
u.  and  tv.  and  o.  bartow,  and  t.  longwouth,  savannatt 


1823. 


# 


2 

PREFATORY  LETTER, 

FROM    THE 

REVEREND  DOCTOR  DRIASDUST  OF  YORK. 


CAPTAIN  CLUTTERBUCK,  RESIDING  AT  FAIRY-LODGE, 
NEAR  KENNAQUHAIR,  N.  B. 

Very  worthy  axd  dear  Sir, 

To  3'our  last  letter  I  might  have  answered,  with  the  clas- 
sic, "  Haud  cquideia  invideo,  miror  magis."  For  though  my 
converse,  from  infancy,  has  been  with  things  of  antiquity, 
yet  I  love  not  ghosts  or  spectres  to  be  commentators  there- 
on ;  and  truly  your  account  of  your  conversation  with  our 
great  parent,  in  the  crypt,  or  most  intimate  recess  of  the 
publishers  at  Edinburgh,  had  upon  me  much  the  effect  of  the 
apparition  of  Hector's  phantom  to  the  hero  of  the  iEneid — 

"  Obstupui,  steterunt.que  comae/' 

And,  as  I  said  above,  I  repeat  that  I  wondered  at  the  Vision, 
without  envying  you  the  pleasure  of  seeing  our  great  progeni- 
tor. But  it  seems  that  he  is  now  permitted  to  show  himself  to 
his  family  more  freely  than  formerly ;  or  that  the  old  gentleman 
is  turned  somewhat  garrulous  in  these  latter  days;  or,  in  short, 
not  to  exhaust  your  patience  with  conjectures  of  the  cause,  I 
also  have  seen  the  Vision  .of  the  Author  of  Waverley.  I  do 
not  mean  to  take  any  undue  state  on  myself,  when  I  observe, 
that  this  interview  was  marked  with  circumstances  in  some 
degree  more  formally  complaisant  than  those  which  attended 
your  meeting  with  him  in  our  worthy  publisher's  ;  for  yours 
had  the  appearance  of  a  fortuitous  rencontre,  whereas  mine 
was  preceded  by  the  communication  of  a  large  roll  of  papers, 
containing  a  new  history,  called  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
I  no  sooner  found  that  this  manuscript  consisted  of  a  nar- 


U  PREFATORY    LETTER, 

ratfve,  running  to  the  length  of  perhaps  three  hundred  a 
thirty  pages  in  each  volume,  or  thereabouts,  than  it  instantly 
occurred  to  me  from  whom  this  boon  came  ;  and  having  set 
myself  to  peruse  the  written  sheets,  I  began  to  entertain 
strong  expectations  that  I  might,  peradventure,  next  see  the 
author  himself. 

Again,  it  seems  to  me  a  marked  circumstance,  that  whereas 
;m  inner  apartment  of  Mr.  Constable's  shop  was  thought  a 
place  of  sufficient  solemnity  for  your  audience,  our  venerable 
senior  was  pleased  to  afford  mine  in  the  recesses  of  my  own 
lodgings,  intra  pqrieies,  as  it  were,  and  without  the  chance  of 
interruption.  1  must  also  remark,  that  the  features,  form, 
and  dress  of  the  Eidolon,  as  you  well  term  the  apparition  of 
our  parent,  seemed  to  me  more  precisely  distinct  than  was 
vouchsafed  to  y  on  on  the  former  occasion.  Of  this  hereafter; 
but  heaven  forbid  I  should  glory  or  set  up  any  claim  of  su- 
periority over  the  other  descendants  of  our  common  parent, 
from  such  decided  marks  of  his  preference — Lavs  propria 
<ordet.  1  am  well  satisfied  that  the  honour  was  bestowed 
not  on  my  person,  but  my  cloth — that  the  preference  did  not 
elevate  Jonas  Driasdust  over  Clutterbuck,  but  the  Doctor  of 
Divinity  over  the  Captain.  Cedant  arma  togae — a  maxim 
never  to  be  forgotten  at  any  time,  but  especially  to  be  re- 
ttbered  when  the  soldier  is  upon  half-pay. 
But  I  bethink  me  that  I  am  keeping  you  all  this  while  in 
the  porch,  and  wearying  you  with  Ions  inductions,  when  you 
would  have  me  properare  in  mediant  rem.  As  you  will,  it 
-hall  be  done  ;  for  as  his  Grace  is  wont  to  say  of  me  wittily ; 
'  No  man  tells  a  story  so  well  as  Dr.  Driasdust,  when  he  has 
mce  got  up  to  the  starting-post." — Jocose  hoc.  But  to  con- 
tinue. 

I  had  skimmed  the  cream  of  the  narrative  which  1  had 
received  about  a  week  since,  and  that  with  no  small  cost 
and  pain  ;  for  the  hand  of  our  parent  is  become  so  small  and 
-o  crabbed,  that  I  was  obliged  to  use  strong  magnifiers. 
Feeling  my  eyes  a  little  exhausted  towards  the  close  of  the 
second  volume,  I  leaned  back  in  my  easy  chair,  and  began  to 
consider  whether  several  of  the  objections  which  have  been 
particularly  urged  against  our  father  and  patron,  might  not 
be  considered  as  applying,  in  an  especia!  manner,  to  the 
papers  I  had  perused.  '  Here  are  figments  enough,'  said  I 
to  myself,  '  to  confuse  the  march  of  a  whole  history — ana 
ohronisms  enough  to  overset  all  chronology !  The  old  gen- 
leman  hath  broken  all  bounds — o.biit — evasit — crupit." 
As  these  thoughts  passed  through  my  mind,  I  fell  into  a  fit 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  V 

A  musing,  which  is  not  uncommon  with  me  after  dinner, 
when  I  am  altogether  alone,  or  have  no  one  with  me  but  my 
curate.  1  was  awake,  however  ;  for  I  remember  seeing,  in 
the  embers  of  the  tire,  a  representation  of  a  mitre,  with  the 
towers  of  a  cathedral  in  the  back-ground;  moreover,  I  recol- 
lect gazing  for  a  certain  time  on  the  comely  countenance  of 
Dr.  Wbitecose,  my  uncle  by  the  mother's  side — the  same 
who^is^iewfo^ed  in  The  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian — whose 
portrait,  graceful  in  wig  and  canonicals,  hangs  above  my 
mantel-piece.  Farther,  I  remember  marking  the  flowers  in 
the  frame  of  carved  oak,  and  casting  my  eye  on  the  pistols 
which  hang  beneath,  being  the  fire-arms  with  which,  in  the 
eventful  year  174P>,  my  uncle  meant  to  have  espoused  the 
cause  of  Prince  Charl«s  Edward,  for,  indeed,  so  little  did  he 
esteem  personal  safety,  in  comparison  of  steady  high-church 
principle,  that  he  waited  but  the  news  of  the  Adventurer's 
reaching  London  to  hasten  to  join  his  standard. 

Such  a  dose  as  I  then  enjoyed,  1  find  compatible  with  in- 
dulging the  best  and  deepest  cogitations  which  at  any  time 
arise  in  my  mind.  I  chew  the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy, 
in  a  state  betwixt  sleeping  and  waking,  which  I  consider  as 
so  highly  favourable  to  philosophy,  that  I  have  no  doubt  some 
of  its  most  distinguished  systems  have  been  composed  under 
its  influence.  My  servant  is,  therefore,  instructed  to  tread 
as  if  upon  down — my  door  hinges  are  carefully  oiled — and  all 
appliances  used  to  prevent  me  from  being  prematurely  and 
harshly  called  back  to  the  broad  waking-day  of  a  laborious 
world.  My  custom,  in  this  particular,  is  so  well  known,  that 
the  very  schoolboys  cross  the  alley  on  tip  toe,  betwixt  the 
hours  of  four  and  five.  My  cell  is  the  very  dwelling  of  Mor- 
pheus. There  is  indeed  a  bawling  knave  of  a  broom-man, 
quern  ego — but  this  is  matter  for  the  Quarter  Sessions. 

As  my  head  sunk  back  upon  the  easy  chair,  in  the  philoso- 
phical mood  which  1  have  just  described,  and  the  e}es  of  my 
body  began  to  close,  in  order,  doubtless,  that  those  of  my  un- 
derstanding might  be  more  widely  opened.  I  was  startled  by  a 
knock  at  the  door,  of  a  kind  more  authoritatively  boisterous 
than  is  given  at  that  hour  by  any  visiter  acquainted  with  my 
habits.  I  started  up  in  my  seat,  and  heard  the  step  of  my 
servant  hurrying  along  the  passage,  followed  by  a  very  heavy 
and  measured  pace,  which  shook  the  long  oak-floored  gallery 
in  such  a  manner,  as  forcibly  to  arrest  my  attention.  "A 
stranger,  sir,  just  arrived  from  Edinburgh  by  the  North  Mail, 
desires  to  speak  with  your  Reverence."     Such  were  the 

1* 


VI  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

♦v  ords  with  which  Jacob  threw  the  door  to  the  wall ;  and  the 
startled  tone  in  which  he  pronounced  them,  although  there 
was  nothing  particular  in  the  annunciation  itself,  prepared  me 
for  the  approach  of  a  visiter  of  uncommon  dignity  and  im- 
portance. 

The  Author  of  Waverley  entered,  a  bulky  and  tall  man- 
in  a  travelling-  great-coat,  which  covered  a  suit  of  sjiuff- brown, 
cut  in  imitation  of  that  worn  by  the  great  Rambler.  Hi= 
Mapped  hat,  for  he  disdained  the  modern  frivolities  of  a 
travelling  cap,  was  bound  over  his  head  with  a  large  silk 
handkerchief,  so  as  to  protect  his  ears  from  cold  at  once,  and 
from  the  babble  of  his  pleasant  companions  in  the  public 
coach  from  which  he  had  just  alighted.  There  was  some- 
what of  a  sarcastic  shrewdness  and  sense,  which  sate  on  the 
heavy  penthouse  of  his  shaggy  gray  eyebrow — his  features 
were  in  other  respects  largely  shaped,  and  rather  heavy,  than 
promising  wit  or  genius  ;  but  he  had  a  notable  projection  ot 
the  nose,  similar  to  that  line  of  the  Latin  poet, — 

(i  iirmiodicum  surgit  pro  cuspide  rostrum." 

A  stout  walking-stick  stayed  his  hand — a  double  Barcelona 
protected  his  neck — his  belly  was  something  prominent,  'but 
that's  not  much,' — his  breeches  were  substantial  thickset — 
and  a  pair  of  top-boots,  which  were  slipped  down  to  ease  his 
sturdy  calves,  did  not  conceal  his  comfortable  travelling 
stockings  of  lamb's  wool,  wrought,  not  on  the  loom,  but  on 
the  wires,  and  after  the  venerable  ancient  fashion,  known  in 
Scotland  by  the  name  of  ridge-and-furrorv.  His  age  seemed 
to  be  considerably  above  fifty,  but  could  not  amount  to  three- 
score, which  I  observed  with  pleasure,  trusting  there  maybe 
a  good  deal  of  work  had  out  of  him  yet  :  especially  as  a 
general  haleness  of  appearance — the  compass  and  strength 
of  his  voice — the  steadiness  of  his  step — the  rotundity  of 
v,is  calf— the  depth  of  his  hem,  and  the  sonorous  emphasis 
of  his  sneeze,  were  all  signs  of  a  constitution  built  for  per- 
manence. 

It  struck  me  forcibly,  as  I  gazed  on  this  portly  person, 
that  he  realized,  in  my  imagination,  the  Stout  Gentleman  in 
No.  II.,  who  afforded  such  subject  of  varying  speculation  to 
our  most  amusing  and  elegant  Utopian  traveller,  Master 
Geoffrey  Crayon.  Indeed,  but  for  one  little  trait  in  the 
conduct  Of  the  said  Stout  Gentleman — I  mean  the  gallantry 
towards  his  landlady,  a  thing  which  would  greatly  derogate 
from  our  Senior's  character — I  should  be  disposed  to  con- 


PREFATORV    LETTER.  Vli 

elude  that  Master  Crayon  had,  on  that  memorable  occasion, 
actually  passed  his  time  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Author  of 
Waverley.  But  our  worthy  patriarch,  be  it  spoken  to  his 
praise,  far  from  cultivating  the  society  of  the  fair  sex,  seems, 
in  avoiding  the  commerce  of  womankind,  rather  to  imitate 
the  humour  of  our  friend  and  relation,  Master  Jonathan 
Oldbuck,  as  1  was  led  to  conjecture,  from  a  circumstance 
which  occurred  immediately  after  his  entrance. 

Having  acknowledged  his  presence  with  titting  thanks  and 
gratulatio.ns,  I  proposed  to  my  venerated  visiter,  as  the  re- 
freshment best  suited  to  the  hour  of  the  day,  to  summon  my 
cousin  and  housekeeper,  Miss  Catherine  Whiterose,  with 
the  tea-equipage;  but  he  rejected  my  proposal  with  disdain, 
worthy  of  the  Laird  of  Monkbarns.  "  No  scandal-broth," 
he  exclaimed  ;  ,%  no  unidea'd  woman's  chatter  for  me.  Fill 
the  frothed  tankard — slice  the  fatter!  rump — 1  desire  no  so- 
ciety but  yours,  and  no  refreshment  but  what  the  cask  and 
the  gridiron  can  supply." 

The  beef-steak,  and  toast  and  tankard,  were  speedily  got 
ready  ;  and  whether  an  apparition,  or  a  bodily  presentation, 
my  visiter  displayed  dexterity  as  a  trencher-man,  which 
might  have  attracted  the  envy  of  a  hungry  hunter,  after  a 
fox-chase  of  forty  miles.  Neither  did  he  fail  to  make  some 
deep  and  solemn  appeals,  not  only  to  the  tankard  aforesaid, 
but  to  two  decanters  of  London  particular  Madeira  and  old 
Port ;  the  first  of  which  1  had  extracted  from  its  ripening 
place  of  depositation,  within  reach  of  the  genial  warmth  of 
the  oven  ;  the  other,  from  a  deep  crypt  in  mine  own  ancient 
cellar,  which  whilome  may  have  held  the  vintages  of  the 
victors  of  the  world,  the  arch  being  composed  of  Roman 
brick.  I  could  not  help  admiring  and  congratulating  the  old 
gentleman  upon  the  vigorous  appetite  which  he  displayed 
for  the  genial  cheer  of  old  England.  t;  Sir,"  was  his  reply, 
"  1  must  eat  as  an  Englishman,  to  qualify  myself  for  taking 
my  piace  at  one  of  the  most  select  companies  of  right  English 
spirits,  which  ever  girdled  in,  and  hewed  asunder,  a  moun- 
tainous sirloin,  and  a  generous  plum-pudding." 

I  inquired,  but  with  all  deference  and  modesty,  whither 
he  was  bowpd,  and  to  what  distinguished  society  he  applied 
a  description  so  general.  1  shall  proceed,  in  humble  imita- 
tion of  your  example,  to  give  the  subsequent  dialogue  in  a 
dramatic  form,  unless  when  description  becomes  necessary. 

Author  of  Waverley.  To  whom  should  I  apply  such  a 
description,  save  to  the  only  Society  to  whom  it  can  be  tho- 


VIII  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

roughly  applicable — those  unerring  judges  of  old  books  and 
old  wine — the  Roxburghe  Club  of  London  ?  Have  you  not 
heard  that  1  have  been  chosen  a  member  of  that  Society  of 
select  Bibliomaniacs  ? 

Driasdast.  (Rummaging  in  his  pocket.)  I  did  hear  some- 
thing of  it  from  captain  Clutterbuck.  who  wrote  to  me — ay, 
here  is  his  letter — that  such  a  report  was  current  among  the 
Scottish  antiquaries,  who  were  much  alarmed  lest  you  should 
be  seduced  into  the  heresy  of  preferring  English  beef  to 
seven-year-old  black-faced  mutton,  Maraschino  to  whiskey, 
and  turtle  soup  to  cock-a-ieekie  ;  in  which  case,  they  must 
needs  renounce  you  as  a  lost  man. — "  But,"  adds  our  friend 
— his  hand  is  rather  of  a  military  description — better  used 
to  handle  the  sword  than  the  pen — "  Our  friend  is  so  mucli 
upon  the  SHU  N — the  shun,  1  think  it  is-  that  it  will  be 
no  light  temptation  which  will  withdraw  him  from  his  in- 
cognito." 

Author.  No  light  temptation,  unquestionably  ;  but  this  is 
a  powerful  one,  to  hob  or  nob  with  the  lords  of  the  literary 
treasures  of  Althorpe  and  Hodnet,  in  Madeira  negus,  brew- 
ed by  the  classical  Dibdin — to  share  those  profound  debates 
which  stamp  accurately  on  each  "  small  volume,  dark  with 
tarnished,  gold,"  its  collar  not  of  S.  S.  but  of  R.  R.  to  toast 
the  immortal  memory  of  Caxton,  Valdarar,  Pynson,  and  the 
Other  fathers  of  that  great  art,  which  lias  made  all,  and  each 
of  us,  what  we  are.  These,  my  dear  son,  are  temptations, 
to  which  you  see  me  now  in  the  act  of  resigning  that  quiet 
chimney-corner  of  life,  in  which,  unknowing  and  unknown 
— save  by  means  of  the  hopeful  family  to  which  I  have 
given  birth — 1  had  proposed  to  wear  out  the  end  of  life's 
evening  gray. 

So  saying,  our  venerable  friend  to^k  another  emphatic 
touch  of  the  tankard,  as  if  the  very  expression  had  suggested 
that  specific  remedy  against  the  evils  of  life  recommended 
in  the  celebrated  response  of  Johnson's  anchorite — 

'•  Come,  my  lad,  ami  drink  some  beer/' 

When  he  had  placed  on  the  table  the  silver  tankard,  and 
fetched  a  deep  sigh  to  collect  the  respiration  which  the  long 
draught  had  interrupted,  1  could  not  help  echoing  it,  in  a 
note  so  pathetically  compassionate,  that  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
me  with  surprise.  "  How  is  this  ?"  said  he,  somewhat  an- 
grily ;  "do  you,  the  creature  of  my  will,  grudge  me  my 
preferment?  Have  1  dedicated  to  you,  and  your  fellows,  the 


PREFATORY  LETTER.  IS 

best  hours  of  my  life  for  these  seven  years  past ;  and  do 
you  presume  to  grumble  or  repine,  because,  in  those  which 
are  to  come,  I  seek  for  some  enjoyment  of  life  in  society 
so  congenial  to  my  pursuits  '?"  1  humbled  myself  before 
the  offended  Senior,  and  professed  my  innocence  in  all  that 
could  possibly  give  him  displeasure.  He  seemed  partly 
appeased,  but  still  bent  on  me  an  eye  of  some  suspicion, 
while  he  questioned  me  in  the  words  of  old  Norton,  in 
the  ballad  of  the  "  Rising  in  the  North  Country." 

Author.  What  wouldst  thou  have    Francis  Norton  : 

Thou  art  my  youngest  sod  and  h^ir; 
Something  lies  brooding  at  thy  heart — 

Whate'er  it  he,  to  me  declare. 

Driasdust.  Craving,  then,  your  paternal  forgiveness  for  my 
presumption,  1  only  sighed  at  the  possibility  of  your  ventu- 
ring yourself  among  a  body  of  critics,  to  whom,  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  skilful  antiquaries,  the  investigation  of  truth  is  an 
especial  duty,  and  who  may  therefore  visit  with  "the  more 
severe  censure  those  aberrations,  which  it  is  so  often  your 
pleasure  to  make  from  the  path  of  true  history. 

Author.  I  understand  you.  You  mean  to  say  these  learned 
persons  will  have  but  iittle  toleration  for  a  romance,  or  a 
fictitious  narrative  founded  upon  history  ? 

Driasdust.  Why,  sir,  I  do  rather  apprehend,  that  their 
respect  for  the  foundation  will  be  such,  that  they  may  be  apt 
to  quarrel  with  the  inconsistent  nature  of  the  superstructure ; 
just  as  every  classical  traveller  pours  forth  expressions  of 
sorrow  and  indignation,  when,  in  travelling  through  Greece, 
he  chances  to  see  a  Turkish  kiosk  rising  on  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  temple. 

Author.  But  since  we  cannot  rebuild  the  temple,  a  kiosk 
may  be  a  pretty  thing,  may  it  not  J  Not  quite  correct  in 
architecture,  strictly  and  classically  criticised  ;  but  presenting 
something  uncommon  to  the  eye,  and  something  fantastic  to 
the  imagination,  on  which  the  spectator  gazes  with  pleasure 
of  the  same  description  which  arises  from  the  perusal  of  an 
Eastern  tale. 

Driasdust.  I  am  unable  to  dispute  with  you  in  metaphor, 
sir  ;  but  I  must  say,  in  discharge  of  my  conscience,  that  you 
stand  much  censured  for  adulterating  the  pure  sources  of 
historical  knowledge.  You  approach  them,  men  say,  like 
the  drunken  yeoman,  who,  once  upon  a  time,  polluted  the 
crystal  spring  which  supplied  the  thirst  of  his  family,  with  a 
score  of  sugar  loaves  and  a  hogshead  of  rum  ;  and  thereby 
converted  a  simple  and  wholesome  beverage  into  a  stupefy- 


X  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

ing,  brutefying,  and  intoxicating  fluid  ;  sweeter  indeed,  to  the 
taste,  than  the  natural  lymph,  but,  for  that  very  reason,  more 
seductively  dangerous. 

Author.  I  allow  your  metaphor,  Doctor  ;  but  yet,  though 
good  punch  cannot  supply  the  want  of  spring-water,  it  is, 
when  modestly  used,  no  malum  in  se ;  and  I  should  have 
thought  it  a  shabby  thing  of  the  parson  of  the  parish,  had  he 
helped  to  drink  out  the  well  on  Saturday  night,  and  preached 
against  the  honest  hospitable  yeoman  on  Sunday  morning. 
I  should  have  answered  to  him,  that  the  very  flavour  of  the 
liquor  should  have  put  him  at  once  upon  his  guard  ;  and  that, 
if  he  had  taken  a  drop  over  much,  he  ought  to  blame  his 
own  imprudence  more  than  the  hospitality  of  his  entertainer. 

Driasdust.   1  profess  I  do  not  exactly  see  how  this  applies. 

Aulhor.  No  ;  you  are  one  of  those  numerous  disputants, 
who  will  never  follow  their  metaphor  a  step  farther  than  it 
goes  their  own  way.  I  will  explain.  A  poor  fellow,  like 
myself,  weary  with  ransacking  his  own  barren  and  bounded 
imagination,  looks  out  for  some  general  subject  in  the  huge 
and  boundless  field  of  history,  which  holds  forth  examples 
of  every  kind — lights  on  some  personage,  or  some  combina- 
tion of  circumstances,  or  some  striking  trait  of  manners, 
which  he  thinks  may  be  advantageously  used  as  the  basis  of 
a  fictitious  narrative — bedizens  it  with  such  colouring  as  his 
skill  suggests — ornaments  it  with  such  romantic  circumstan- 
ces as  may  heighten  the  general  effect — invests  it  with  such 
shades  of  character,  as  will  best  contrast  with  each  other, 
and  thinks,  perh  tps,  he  has  done  some  service  to  the  pub- 
lic, if  he  can  present  to  them  a  lively  fictitious  picture,  for 
which  the  original  anecdote  or  circumstance,  which  he  made 
free  to  press  into  his  service,  only  furnished  a  slight  sketch. 
Now  I  cannot  perceive  the  slightest  harm  in  this.  The 
stores  of  history  are  accessible  to  every  one  ;  and  are  no 
more  exhausted  or  impoverished  by  the  hints  thus  borrow- 
ed from  them,  than  the  fountain  is  drained  by  the  water 
which  we  subtract  for  domestic  purposes.  And  in  reply  to 
the  sober  ch  irj;e  of  falsehood,  against  a  narrative  announced 
positively  to  be  fictitious,  one  can  only  reply,  by  Prior's 
exclamation. 

"  Odzooks,  must  one  swear  to  the  truth  of  a  song?" 

Driasdust.  Nay  ;  but  I  fear  me  that  you  are  here  eluding 
the  charge.  Men  do  not  seriously  accuse  you  of  misrepre- 
senting history  ;    although  I  assure  you  I  have  seen  some 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  Xl 

grave  treatises,  in  which  it  was  thought  necessary  to  con- 
tradict your  assertions. 

Author.  That  certainly  was  to  point  a  discharge  of  artil- 
lery against  a  wreath  of  morning  mist. 

Driasdust.  But  besides,  and  especially,  it  is  said  that  you 
are  in  danger  of  causing  history  to  be  neglected — readers 
being  contented  with  such  frothy  and  superficial  knowledge, 
as  they  acquire  from  your  works,  to  the  effect  of  inducing 
them  to  neglect  the  severer  and  more  accurate  sources  of 
information. 

Author.  I  deny  the  consequence.  On  the  contrary,  I 
rather  hope  that  I  have  turned  the  attention  of  the  public 
on  various  points,  which  have  received  elucidation  from 
writers  of  more  learning  and  research  in  consequence  of 
my  novels  having  attached  some  interest  to  them.  I  might 
give  instances,  but  I  hate  vanity  —  1  hate  vanity.  The  his- 
tory of  the  divining  rod  is  well  known — it  is  a  slight  value- 
less twig  in  itself,  but  indicate*  by  its  motion,  where  veins 
of  precious  metal  are  concealed  below  the  earth,  which  af- 
terward enrich  the  adventurers  by  whom  they  are  laborious- 
ly and  carefully  wrought.  I  claim  no  more  merit  for  my 
historical  hints  ;  but  this  is  something. 

Driasdust.  We  severer  antiquaries,  sir,  may  grant  that 
this  is  true  ;  to  wit,  that  your  works  may  occasionally  have 
put  men  of  solid  judgment  upon  researches  which  they 
would  not  perhaps  have  otherwise  thought  of  undertaking. 
But  this  will  leave  you  still  accountable  for  misleading  the 
young,  the  indolent,  and  the  giddy,  by  thrusting  into  their 
hands  works,  which,  while  they  have  so  much  the  appear- 
ance of  conveying  information,  as  may  prove  perhaps  a 
salve  to  their  consciences  for  employing  their  leisure  in  the 
perusal,  yet  leave  their  giddy  brains  contented  with  the 
crude,  uncertain,  and  often  false  statements  which  your 
novels  abound  with.  ^m 

Author.  It  would  be  very  unbecoming  in  me,  reverend 
sir,  to  accuse  a  gentleman  of  your  cloth  of  cant ;  but  pray 
is  there  not  something  like  it  in  the  pathos  with  which  you 
enforce  these  dangers  ?  I  aver,  on  the  contrary,  that  b}T 
introducing  the  busy  and  the  youthful  to  "  truths  severe  in 
fairy  fiction  dressed,"  lam  doing  a  real  service  to  the  more 
ingenious  and  the  more  apt  among  them  ;  for  the  love  of 
knowledge  wants  but  a  beginning — the  least  spark  will  give 
lire  when  the  train  is  properly  prepared  ;  and  having  been 
interested  in  fictitious  adventures,  ascribed  to  a  historical 


Xll  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

period  and  characters,  the  reader  begins  next  to  be  anxious 
to  learn  what  the  facts  really  were,  and  how  far  the  novelist 
has  justly  represented  them. 

But  even  where  the  mind  of  the  more  careless  reader 
remains  satisfied  with  the  light  perusal  he  has  afforded  to  a 
tale  of  fiction,  he  will  still  lay  down  the  book  with  a  degree 
of  knowledge,  not  perhaps  of  the  most  accurate  kind,  but 
such  as  he  might  not  otherwise  have  acquired.  Nor  is  this 
limited  to  minds  of  alow  and  incurious  description ;  but  on 
the  contrary,  comprehends  many  persons  otherwise  of  high 
talents,  who,  nevertheless,  either  from  lack  of  time,  or  of 
perseverance,  are  willing  to  sit  down  contented  with  the 
slight  information  which  is  acquired  in  such  a  manner.  The 
great  duke  of  Marlborough,  for  example,  having  quoted,  in 
conversation,  some  fact  of  English  history  rather  inaccurate- 
ly, was  requested  to  name  his  authority.  "  Shakspeare's 
Historical  Plays,"  answered  the  conqueror  of  Blenheim  : 
"the  only  English  history  I  ever  read  in  my  life."  And  a 
hasty  recollection  will  convince  any  of  us  how  much  better 
we  are  acquainted  with  those  parts  of  English  history  which 
that  immortal  bard  has  dramatized,  than  with  any  other  por- 
tion of  British  story. 

Driasdust.  And  you,  worthy  sir,  are  ambitious  to  render 
a  similar  service  to  posterity  ? 

Author.  May  the  saints  forefend  I  should  be  guilty  of 
such  unfounded  vanity  !  I  only  show  what  has  been  done 
when  there  were  giants  in  the  land.  We  pigmies  of  the 
present  day,  may  at  least,  however,  do  something  ;  and  it 
is  well  to  have  a  pattern  before  our  eyes,  though  that  pat- 
tern be  inimitable. 

Driasdust.  Well,  sir,  with  me  you  must  have  your  own 
course  ;  and  for  reasons  well  known  to  you,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  reply  to  you  in  argument.  But  I  doubt  if  all  you 
have  said  will  reconcile  the  public  to  the  anachronisms  of 
your  present  volumes.  Here  you  have  a  Countess  of  Der- 
by, fetched  out  of  her  coll  grave,  and  saddled  with  a  set  of 
adventures  dated  twenty  years  after  her  death. 

Author.  She  may  sue  for  damages,  as  in  the  case  D^do 
versus  Virgil. 

Driasdust.  A  worse  fault  is,  that  your  manners  are  even 
more  incorrect  than  usual  Your  Puritan  is  faintly  traced, 
in  comparison  to  your  Oameronian. 

Author.  I  agree  to  the  charge  ;  but  although  I  still  con- 
sider hypocrisy  and  enthusiasm  as  fit  food  for  ridicule  and 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  Xlll 

satire,  yet  I  am  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  holding  fanati- 
cism up  to  laughter  or  abhorrence,  without  using  colouring 
which  may  give  offence  to  the  sincerely  worthy  and  reli- 
gious. Many  things  are  lawful  which  we  are  taught  are  not 
convenient ;  and  there  are  many  tones  of  feeling  which  are 
too  respectable  to  be  insulted,  though  we  do  not  altogether 
sympathize  with  them. 

Driasdust.  Not  to  mention,  my  worthy  sir,  that  perhaps 
you  may  think  the  subject  exhausted. 

Author.  The  devil  take  the  men  of  this  generation  for 
putting  the  worst  construction  on  their  neighbour's  conduct ! 
So  saying,  and  flinging  a  testy  sort  of  adieu  towards  me 
with  his  hand,  he  opened  the  door,  and  ran  hastily  down 
stairs.  I  started  on  my  feet,  and  rang  for  my  servant,  who 
instantly  came.  I  demanded  what  had  become  of  the  stran 
oer — he  denied  that  any  such  had  been  admitted — I  pointed 
to  the  empty  decanters,  and  he — he — he  had  the  assurance 
to  intimate  that  such  vacancies  were  sometimes  'made  when 
I  had  no  better  company  than  my  own.  I  do  not  know 
what  to  make  of  this  doubtful  matter,  but  will  certainly  imi- 
tate your  example  in  placing  this  dialogue,  with  my  present 
letter,  at  the  head  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

I  am, 

Dear  Sir, 
Very  much  your  faithful 
and  obedient  servant, 

Jonas  Driasdust 
-Mich  aelmas-day,  1822, 
York, 


VOL.    I. 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK 


CHAPTER  I. 


When  civil  dudgeon  first  grew  high, 
And  men  fell  out  they  knew  not  why  ; 
When  foul  words,  jealousies,  and  fears, 
Set  folks  together  by  the  ears — 

Bvtllh 


William,  the  Conqueror  of  England,  was,  or  sup- 
posed himself  to  be,  the  father  of  a  certain  William 
Peveril,  who  attended  him  to  the  battle  of  Hastings,  and 
there  distinguished  himself.  The  liberal-minded  mo- 
narch, who  assumed  in  his  charters  the  veritable  title 
of  Gulielmus  Bastardus,  was  not  likely  to  let  his  son's 
illegitimacy  be  any  bar  to  the  course  of  his  royal  favour, 
when  the  laws  of  England  were  issued  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Norman  victor,  and  the  lands  of  the  Saxons  were 
at  his  unlimited  disposal.  William  Peveril  obtained  a 
liberal  grant  of  property  and  lordships  in  Derbyshire,  and 
became  the  erector  of  that  Gothic  fortress,  which, 
hanging  over  the  mouth  of  the  Devil's  Cavern,  so  well 
known  to  tourists,  gives  the  name  of  Castleton  to  thjg| 
adjacent  village. 

From  this  feudal  Baron,  who  chose  his  nest  upon  the 
principles  on  which  an  eagle  selects  her  eyry,  and  built 
it  in  such  a  fashion  as  if  he  had  intended  it,  as  an  Irish- 
man said  of  the  Martello  towers,  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
puzzling  posterity,  there  was,  or  conceived  themselves 
to  be,  descended  (for  their  pedigree  was  rather  hypo- 
thetical) an  opulent  family  of  knightly  rank,  in  the  same, 


1G  PEVEIUL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

county  of  Derby.  The  great  fief  of  Castleton,  with  its' 
adjacent  wastes  and  forests,  and  all  the  wonders  which 
they  contain,  had  been  forfeited  in  King  John's  stormy 
days  by  one  William  Peveril,  and  had  been  granted 
anew  to  the  Lord  Ferrers  of  that  day.  Yet  this  Wil- 
liam's descendants,  though  no  longer  possessed  of  what 
they  alleged  to  be  their  original  property,  were  long 
distinguished  by  the  proud  title  of  Peverils  of  the  Peak, 
which  served  to  mark  their  high  descent,  and  lofty  pre- 
tensions. 

In  Charles  the  Second's  time,  the  representative  ot 
this  ancient  family  was  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril,  a  man 
who  had  many  of  the  ordinary  attributes  of  an  old-fa- 
shioned country  gentleman,  and  very  few  individual 
traits  to  distinguish  him  from  the  general  portrait  of 
that  worthy  class  of  mankind.  He  was  proud  of  small 
advantages,  angry  at  small  disappointments,  incapable 
of  forming  any  resolution  or  opinion  abstracted  from  his 
own  prejudices — he  was  proud  of  his  birth,  lavish  in 
his  housekeeping,  convivial  with  his  kindred  and  ac- 
quaintances, who  would  allow  his  superiority  in  rank — 
contentious  and  quarrelsome  with  all  that  crossed  his 
pretensions — kind  to  the  poor,  except  when  they  plun- 
dered his  game — a  royalist  in  his  political  opinions — 
and  one  who  detested  alike  a  Roundhead,  a  poacher, 
and  a  Presbyterian.  In  religion  Sir  Geoffrey  was  a 
high  churchman  of  so  exalted  a  strain  that  many  thought 
he  still  nourished  in  private  the  Roman  Catholic  tenets, 
which  his  family  had  only  renounced  in  his  father's 
time,  and  that  he  had  a  dispensation  for  conforming  in 
outward  observances  to  the  Protestant  faith.  There 
was  at  least  such  a  scandal  among  the  Puritans,  and 
the  influence  which  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  certainly  ap- 
peared to  possess  amongst  the  Catholic  gentlemen  of 
Derbyshire  and  Cheshire,  seemed  to  give  countenance 
to  the  rumour: 

Such  was  Sir  Geoffrey,  who  might  have  passed  to  his 
grave  without  further  distinction  than  a  brass-plate  in 
the  chancel,  had  he  not  lived  in  times  which  forced  the 
most  inactive  spirits  into  exertion,  as  a  tempest  influ- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  1* 

ences  the  sluggish  waters  of  the  deadest  mere.  When 
the  Civil  Wars  broke  out,  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  proud 
from  pedigree,  and  brave  by  constitution,  raised  a  regi- 
ment for  the  King,  and  showed  upon  several  occasions 
more  capacity  to  command,  than  men  had  heretofore 
given  him  credit  for. 

Even  in  the  midst  of  the  civil  turmoil,  he  fell  in  love 
with,  and  married,  a  beautiful  and  amiable  young  lady 
of  the  noble  house  of  Stanley  :  and  from  that  time  had 
the  more  merit  in  his  loyalty,  as  it  divorced  him  from 
her  society,  unless  at  very  brief  intervals,  when  his  duty 
permitted  an  occasional  visit  to  his  home.  Scorning  to 
be  allured  from  his  military  duty  by  domestic  induce- 
ments, Peveril  of  the  Peak  fought  on  for  several  rough 
years  of  civil  war,  and  performed  his  part  with  sufficient 
gallantry,  until  his  regiment  was  surprised  and  cut  to 
pieces  by  Poyntz,  Cromwell's  enterprising  and  success- 
ful general  of  cavalry.  The  defeated  cavalier  escaped 
from  the  field  of  battle,  and,  like  a  true  descendant  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  disdaining  submission,  threw. a 
himself  into  his  own  castellated  mansion-house,  which 
was  attacked  and  defended  in  a  siege  of  that  irregular 
kind  which  caused  the  destruction  of  so  many  baronial 
residences  during  the  course  of  these  unhappy  wars. 
Martindale  Castle,  after  having  suffered  severely  from 
the  cannon  which  Cromwell  himself  brought  against  it, 
was  at  length  surrendered  when  at  the  last  extremity. 
Sir  Geoffrey  himself  became  a  prisoner,  and  while  his 
liberty  was  only  restored  upon  a  promise  of  remaining 
a  peaceful  subject  to  the  Commonwealth  in  future,  his 
former  delinquencies,  as  they  were  termed  by  the  ruling 
party,  were  severely  punished  by  tine  and  sequestration. 

But  neither  his  forced  promise,  nor  the  fear  of  fur- 
ther unpleasant  consequences  to  his  person  or  properly, 
could  prevent  Peveril  of  the  Peak  from  joining  the 
gallant  Earl  of  Derby  the  night  before  the  fatal  engage- 
ment in  Wfggan-Iane,  where  the  Earl's  forces  were 
dispersed.  Sir  Geoffrey  had  his  share  in  that  action, 
and  escaped  with  the  reliques  of  the  royalists  after  the 
defeat,  to  join  Charles  II.  He  witnessed  also  the  final 
3c/eat  of  Worcester,  where  he  was  a  second  time  made 


IS  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

prisoner,  and  as  being,  in  the  opinion  of  Cromwell  and 
the  language  of  the  times,  an  obstinate  malignant,  he 
was  in  great  danger  of  having  shared  with  the  Earl  of 
Derby  his  execution  at  Bolton-le-Moor,  as  he  had  par- 
taken with  him  the  dangers  of  two  actions.  But  Sir. 
Geoffrey's  life  was  preserved  by  the  interest  of  a  friend, 
who  possessed  influence  in  the  councils  of  Oliver. — 
This  was  a  Mr.  Bridgenorth,  a  gentleman  of  middling 
quality,  whose  father  had  been  successful  in  some  com- 
mercial adventure  during  the  peaceful  reign  of  James 
I.;  and  who  had  bequeathed  his  son  a  considerable  sum 
of  money,  in  addition  to  the  small  patrimony  which  he 
inherited  from  his  father. 

The  substantial,  though  moderate-sized  brick  build- 
ing of  Moultrassie  Hall,  was  but  two  miles  distant  from 
Martindale  Castle,  and  the  young  Bridgenorth  attended 
the  same  school  with  the  heir  of  the  Peverils.  A  sort 
of  companionship,  if  not  intimacy,  took  place  betwixt 
them,  which  continued  during  their  youthful  sports — 
j^the  rather  that  Bridgenorth,  though  herdid  not  at  heart 
admit  Sir  Geoffrey's  claims  of  superiority  to  the  extent 
which  the  other's  vanity  would  have  exacted,  paid  de- 
ference in  a  reasonable  degree  to  the  representative  of 
a  family  so  much  more  ancient  and  important  than  his 
own,  without  conceiving  that  he  in  any  respect  degra- 
ded himself  by  doing  so. 

Mr.  Bridgenorth  did  not,  however,  carry  his  com- 
plaisance so  far  as  to  embrace  Sir  Geoffrey's  side  du- 
ring the  Civil  War.  On  the  contrary,  as  an  active 
Justice  of  the  Peace,  he  assisted  eminently  in  arraying 
the  militia  in  the  cause  of  the  Parliament,  and  for  some 
time  held  a  military  commission  in  that  service.  This 
was  partly  owing  to  his  religious  principles,  for  he  was  a 
zealous  Presbyterian,  partly  to  his  political  ideas,  which. 
without  being  absolutely  democratical,  favoured  the 
popular  side  of  the  great  national  question.  Besides, 
he  was  a  moneyed  man,  and  to  a  certain  extent  had  a 
shrewd  eye  to  his  worldly  interest.  He  understood 
how  to  improve  the  opportunities  which  civil  war 
afforded,  of  advancing  his  fortune,  by  a  dexterous  use 
of  his  capital ;  and  he  was  not  at  a  loss  to  perceive 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  19 

that  these  were  likely  to  be  obtained  by  joining  the  Par- 
liament; while  the  king's  cause,  as  it  was  managed, 
held  out  nothing  to  the  wealthy  but  a  course  of  exac- 
tion and  compulsory  loans.  For  these  reasons,  Bridge- 
north  became  a  decided  Roundhead,  and  all  friendly 
communication  betwixt  his  neighbour  and  him  was  ab- 
ruptly broken  asunder.  This  was  done  with  the  less 
acrimony,  that,  during  the  Civil  War,  Sir  Geoffrey  was 
almost  constantly  in  the  field,  following  the  vacillating 
and  unhappy  fortunes  of  his  master;  while  Major 
Bridgenorth,  who  soon  renounced  active  military  ser- 
vice, resided  chiefly  in  London,  and  only  occasionally 
visited  the  Hall,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  his  wife  and 
family. 

Upon  these  visits  he  learned,  and  it  was  with  great 
pleasure  he  received  the  intelligence,  that  Lady  Pe- 
veril  had  shown  much  occasional  kindness  to  Mrs. 
Bridgenorth,  and  had  actually  given  her  and  her  family 
shelter  in  Martindale  Castle,  when  Moultrassie  Hall  was 
threatened  with  pillage  by  a  body  of  Prince  Rupert's 
ill-disciplined  cavaliers.  This  acquaintance  had  been 
matured  by  frequent  walks  together,  which  the  vicinity 
of  their  places  of  residence  suffered  the  Lady  Peveril 
to  arrange  with  Mrs.  Bridgenorth,  who  deemed  herself 
much  honoured  in  being  thus  admitted  into  the  society 
of  so  distinguished  a  Lady.  Major  Bridgenorth  heard 
of  this  growing  intimacy  with  great  pleasure,  and  he 
determined  to  repay  the  obligation,  as  far  as  he  could 
without  much  hurt  to  himself,  by  interfering  with  all  his 
influence,  in  behalf  of  her  unfortunate  husband.  It 
was  chiefly  owing  to  Major  Bridgenorth's  mediation,  that 
Sir  Geoffrey's  life  was  saved  after  Worcester  battle.  He 
obtained  him  permission  to  compound  for  his  estate  on 
easier  terms  than  many  who  had  been  less  obstinate 
in  malignancy  ;  and,  finally,  when,  in  order  to  raise 
the  money  to  pay  the  composition,  the  Knight  was 
obliged  to'sell  a  considerable  portion  of  his  patrimony. 
Major  Bridgenorth  became  the  purchaser,  and  that  at  a 
larger  price  than  had  been  paid  to  any  cavalier  under 
such  circumstances,  by  a  member  of  the  Committee 
for  Sequestrations.     It  is  true,  the  prudent  committee 


20  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

man  did  not,  by  any  means,  lose  sight  of  his  own  inter- 
est in  the  transaction,  for  the  price  was,  after  all,  very 
moderate,  and  the  property  lay  adjacent  to  Moultrassie 
Hall,  the  value  of  which  was  at  least  trebled  by  the  ac- 
quisition. But  then  it  was  also  true,  that  the  unfortu- 
nate owner  must  have  submitted  to  much  worse  condi- 
tions, had  the  committee-man  used,  as  others  did,  the 
full  advantages  which  his  situation  gave  him ;  and  Bridge- 
north  took  credit  to  himself,  and  received  it  from  others, 
for  having,  on  this  occasion,  fairly  sacrificed  his  interest 
to  his  liberality. 

Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  was  of  the  same  opinion,  and 
the  rather  that  Major  Bridgenorth  seemed  to  endure  his 
exaltation  with  great  moderation,  and  was  disposed  to 
show  him  personally  the  same  deference  in  the  rise  of 
his  fortunes,  which  he  had  exhibited  formerly  in  their 
early  acquaintance.  It  is  but  justice  to  Major  Bridge- 
north  to  observe,  that  in  this  conduct  he  paid  respect 
as  much  to  the  misfortunes  as  to  the  pretensions  of  his 
far-descended  neighbour,  and  that,  with  the  frank  ge- 
nerosity of  a  blunt  Englishman,  he  conceded  points  of 
ceremony  about  which  he  himself  was  indifferent, 
merely  because  he  saw  that  his  doing  so  gave  pleasure- 
to  Sir  Geoffrey. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak  did  justice  to  his  neighbour's  de- 
licacy, in  consideration  of  which  he  forgot  many  things.. 
He  forgot  that  Major  Bridgenorth  was  already  in  pos- 
session over  a  fair  third  of  his  estate,  and  had  various 
pecuniary  claims  affecting  the  remainder,  to  the  extent 
of  one-third  more.  He  endeavoured  even  to  forget, 
what  it  was  still  more  difficult  not  to  remember,  the  al- 
tered situation  in  which  they  and  their  mansions  now 
stood  to  each  other. 

Before  the  Civil  War.  the  superb  battlements  and 
turrets  of  I\Iar,tindale  Castle,  situated  on  a  rock  of  some 
eminence,  looked  down  on  the  red  brick-built  hall,  as 
it  stole  out  from  the  green  plantations,  just  as  an  oak  in 
Martindale  Chase  would  have  looked  beside  one  of  the 
stunted  and  formal  young  beech-trees  with  which 
Bridgenorth  had  graced  his  avenue  ;  but  after  the  siege 
which  we  have  commemorated,  the  enlarged  and  aug- 


PEVEVRIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  21 

mented  Hall  was  as  much  predominant  in  the  landscape 
over  the  shattered  and  blackened  ruins  of  the  Castle,  of 
which  only  one  wing  was  left  habitable,  as  the  youthful 
beech,  in  all  its  vigour  of  shoot  and  bud,  would  show 
to  the  same  aged  oak  stripped  of  its  boughs,  and  rifted 
by  lightning,  one  half  laid  in  shivers  on  the  ground,  and 
the  other  remaining  a  blackened  and  ungraceful  trunk, 
rent  and  splintered,  and  without  either  life  or  leaves. 
Sir  Geoffrey  could  not  but  feel,  that  the  situation  and 
prospects  of  the  two  neighbours  were  exchanged  as  dis- 
advantageous^ for  himself  as  the  appearance  of  then 
mansions  ;  and  that  though  the  authority  of  the  man  in 
office  under  the  Parliament,  the  sequestrator,  and  the 
committee-man,  had  been  only  exerted  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  cavilier  and  the  malignant,  they  would  have 
been  as  effectual  if  applied  to  procure  his  utter  ruin  ; 
and  that  he  was  become  a  client,  while  his  neighbour 
was  elevated  into  a  patron. 

There  were  two  considerations,  besides  the  necessity 
of  the  case  and  the  constant  advice  of  his  lady,  which 
enabled  Peveril  of  the  Peak  to  endure,  with  some  pa- 
tience, this  state  of  degradation.  The  first  was,  that 
the  politics  of  Major  Bridgenorth  began,  on  many  points, 
to  assimilate  themselves  to  his  own.  As  a  Presbyterian, 
he  was  not  an  utter  enemy  to  monarchy,  and  had  been 
considerably  shocked  at  the  unexpected  trial  aud  exe- 
cution of  the  King ;  as  a  civilian  and  a  man  of  property, 
he  feared  the  domination  of  the  military ;  and  though 
he  wished  not  to  see  Charles  restored  by  force  of  arms, 
yet  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  that  to  bring  back  the 
heir  of  the  royal  family  on  such  terms  of  composition 
as  might  ensure  the  protection  of  those  popular  immu- 
nities and  privileges  for  which  the  long  Parliament  had 
at  first  contended,  would  be  the  surest  and  most  desira- 
ble termination  to  the  mutations  of  state  which  had  agi- 
tated Britain.  Indeed,  the  Major's  ideas  on  this  point 
approached  so  nearly  those  of  his  neighbour,  that  he 
had  well  nigh  suffered  Sir  Geoffrey,  who  had  a  finger  in 
almost  all  the  conspiracies  of  the  Royalists,  to  involve 
him  in  the  unfortunate  rising  of  Penruddock  and  Groves. 


22  PEVERIL    OR    THE    PEAK. 

in  the  west,  in  which  many  of  the  Presbyterian  interest, 
as  well  as  the  cavalier  party,  were  engaged.  And 
though  his  habitual  prudence  eventually  kept  him  out  of 
this  and  other  dangers,  Major  Bridgenorth  was  consi- 
dered, during  the  last  years  of  Cromwell's  domination, 
and  the  inter-  regnum  which  succeeded,  as  a  disaffected 
person  to  the  Commonwealth,  and  a  favourer  of  Charles 
Stuart. 

But  besides  this  approximation  to  the  same  political 
opinions,  another  bond  of  intimacy  united  the  families 
of  the  Castle  and  the  Hall.  Major  Bridgenorth,  fortu- 
nate, and  eminently  so  in  all  his  worldly  transactions, 
was  visited  by  severe  and  reiterated  misfortunes  in  his 
family,  and  became,  in  this  particular,  an  object  of  com- 
passion to  his  poorer  and  more  decayed  neighbour. 
Betwixt  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War  and  the  Re- 
storation, he  lost  successively  a  family  of  no  less  than 
six  children,  apparently  through  a  delicacy  of  constitu- 
tion which  cut  off  the  little  prattlers  at  the  early  age 
when  they  most  wind  themselves  around  the  hearts  of 
the  parents. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1658,  Major  Bridgenorth 
was  childless  ;  ere  it  ended,  he  had  a  daughter,  indeed, 
but  her  birth  was  purchased  by  the  death  of  an  affec- 
tionate wife,  whose  constitution  had  been  exhausted  by 
maternal  grief,  and  by  the  anxious  and  harrowing  re- 
flection, that  from  her  the  children  they  had  lost  derived 
that  delicacy  of  health,  which  proved  unable  to  undergo 
the  tear  and  wear  of  existence.     The  same  voice  which 
told  Bridgenorth  that  he  was  father  of  a  living  child,  (it 
was  the  friendly  voice  of  Lady  Peveril,)  communicated 
to  him  the  melancholy  intelligence  that  he  was  no  lon- 
ger a  husband.     The   feelings  of  Major  Bridgenorth 
were  strong  and  deep,  rather  than  hasty  and  vehement  ; 
and  his  grief  assumed  the  form  of  a  sullen  stupor,  from 
which  neither  the  friendly  remonstrances  of  Sir  Geof- 
frey, who  did  not  fail  to  be  with  his  neighbour  at  this  dis- 
tressing conjuncture,  even   though    he  knew  he  must 
meet  the  Presbyterian  pastor,  nor  the  ghostly  exhorta- 
tions of  this  latter  person,  were  able  to  rouse  the  un 
tunate  widower. 


PEVEIUL    OR    THE    PEAK.  23 

At  length  Lady  Peveril,  with  the  ready  invention  of  a 
female  sharpened  by  the  sight  of  distress  and  the  feel- 
ings of  sympathy,  tried  on  the  sufferer  one  of  those  ex- 
periments by  which  grief  is  often  awakened  from  des- 
pondency into  tears.  She  placed  in  Bridgenorth's  arms 
the  infant  whose  birth  had  cost  him  so  dear,  and  conju- 
red him  to  remember  that  his  Alice  was  not  yet  dead, 
since  she  survived  in  the  helpless  child  she  had  left  to 
his  paternal  care. 

"  Take  her  away — take  her  away  !"  said  the  unhap- 
py man,  and  they  were  the  first  words  he  had  spoken ; 
"  let  me  not  look  on  her — it  is  but  another  blossom  that 
has  bloomed  to  fade,  and  the  tree  that  bore  it  will  never 
flourish  more  !" 

He  almost  threw  the  child  into  Lady  Peveril's  arms, 
placed  his  hands  before  his  face,  and  wept  aloud.  La- 
dy Peveril  did  not  say,  "  Be  comforted,"  but  she  ventu- 
red to  promise  that  the  blossom  should  ripen  to  fruit. 

"Never,  never!"  said  Bridgenorth ;  "take  the  un- 
happy child  away,  and  let  me  only  know  when  I  shall 
wear  black  for  h^r — Wear  black  !"  he  exclaimed,  in- 
terrupting himself,  "  what  other  colour  shall  I  wear  du- 
ring the  remainder  of  my  life  ?" 

"  1  will  take  the  child  for  a  season,"  said  Lady  Pev- 
eril, "  since  the  sight  of  her  is  so  painful  to  you  ;  and 
the  little  Alice  shall  share  the  nursery  of  our  Julian,  un- 
til it  shall  be  pleasure  and  not  pain  for  you  to  look  on 
her." 

"  That  hour  will  never  come,"  said  the  unhappy  fa- 
ther ;  "  her  doom  is  written — she  will  follow  the  rest — 
God's  will  be  done. — Lady,  I  thank  you — 1  trust  her  to 
your  care  ;  and  I  thank  God  that  my  eye  shall  not  see 
her  dying  agonies." 

Without  detaining  the  reader's  attention  longer  on 
this  painful  theme,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  the  Lady 
Peveril  did  undertake  the  duties  of  a  mother  to  the  little 
orphan  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  owing,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  her  judicious  treatment  of  the  infant  that  its  feeble 
life  was  preserved,  since  the  glimmering  spark  might 
probably  have  been  altogether  smothered,  had  it,  like 
the  Major's  former  children,  undergone  the  overcare 


24  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

and  over-nursing  of  a  mother  rendered  nervously  cau- 
tious and  anxious  by  so  many  successive  losses.  The 
lady  was  the  more  ready  to  undertake  this  charge,  that 
she  herself  had  lost  two  infant  children ;  and  that  she 
attributed  the  preservation  of  the  third,  now  a  fine  heal- 
thy child  of  three  years  old,  to  Julian's  being  subjected 
to  rather  a  different  course  of  diet  and  treatment  than 
was  then  generally  practised.  She  resolved  to  follow 
the  same  regimen  with  the  little  orphan  which  she  had 
observed  in  the  case  of  her  own  boy,  and  it  was  equal- 
ly successful.  By  a  more  sparing  use  of  medicine,  by 
a  bolder  admission  of  fresh  air,  by  a  firm  yet  cautious 
attention  to  encourage  rather  than  to  supersede  the  ex- 
ertions of  nature,  the  puny  infant,  under  the  care  of  an 
excellent  nurse,  gradually  improved  in  strength  and  in 
liveliness. 

Sir  Geoffrey,  like  most  men  of  his  frank  and  good- 
natured  disposition,  was  naturally  fond  of  children,  and 
so  much  compassioned  the  sorrows  of  his  neighbour,  that 
he  entirely  forgot  his  being  a  Presbyterian,  until  it  be- 
came necessary  that  the  infant  should  be  christened  by 
a  teacher  of  that  persuasion. 

This  was  a  trying  case — the  father  seemed  incapable 
of  giving  direction,  and  that  the  threshold  of  Martin- 
dale  Castle  should  be  violated  by  the  heretical  step  of 
a  dissenting  clergyman,  was  matter  of  horror  to  its  or- 
thodox owner.  He  had  seen  the  famous  Hugh  Peters, 
with  a  Bible  in  one  hand  and  a  pistol  in  the  other,  ride 
in  triumph  through  the  court-door  when  Martindale 
was  surrendered,  and  the  bitterness  of  that  hour  had  en- 
tered like  iron  into  his  soul.  Yet  such  was  Lady  Pev- 
eril's  influence  over  the  prejudices  of  her  husband,  that 
he  was  induced  to  connive  at  the  ceremony  taking 
place  in  a  remote  garden-house,  which  was  not  pro- 
perly within  the  precincts  of  the  Castle-wall.  The  lady 
even  dared  to  be  present  while  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  the  reverend  Master  Solsgrace,  who  had  once 
preached  a  sermon  of  three  hours  length  before  the 
House  of  Commons,  upon  a  thanksgiving  occasion  after 
the  relief  of  Exeter.     Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  took  care 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 


to  be  absent  the  whole  day  from  the  Castle,  and  it  was 
only  from  the  great  interest  which  he  took  in  the  wash- 
ing, perfuming,  and  as  it  were  purification  of  the  sum- 
mer-house, that  it  could  have  been  guessed  he  knew 
any  thing  of  what  had  taken  place  in  it. 

But,  whatever  prejudices  the  good  Knight  might  en- 
tertain against  his  neighbour's  form  of  religion,  they  did 
not  in  any  way  influence  his  feelings  towards  him  as  a 
sufferer  under  severe  affliction.  The  mode  in  which 
he  showed  his  sympathy  was  rather  singular,  but  ex- 
actly suited  the  character  of  both,  and  the  terms  on 
which  they  stood  with  each  other. 

Morning  after  morning  the  good  Baronet  made  Moul* 
trassie  Hall  the  termination  of  his  walk  or  ride,  and  said 
a  single  word  of  kindness  as  he  passed.  Sometimes  he 
entered  the  old  parlour,  where  the  proprietor  sate  in 
solitary  wretchedness  and  despondency;  but  more  fre 
quently  (for  Sir  Geoffrey  did  not  pretend  to  great  ta- 
lents of  conversation,)  he  paused  on  the  terrace,  and 
stopping  or  halting  his  horse  by  the  latticed  window, 
said  aloud  to  the  melancholy  inmate — "  How  is  it  with 
you,  Master  Bridgenorth  ?  (the  Knight  would  never 
acknowledge  his  neighbour's  military  rank  of  Major: 
I  just  look'ed  in  to  bid  you  keep  a  good  heart,  man,  and 
to  tell  you  that  Julian  is  well,  and  little  Alice  is  well. 
and  all  are  well  at  Martindale  Castle." 

A  deep  sigh,  sometimes  coupled  with"  I  thank  you. 
Sir  Geoffrey  ;  my  grateful  duty  waits  on  Lady  Peveril," 
was  generally  Bridgenorth's  only  answer.  But  the 
news  was  received  on  the  one  part  with  the  kindness 
which  was  designed  upon  the  other;  it  gradually  be- 
came less  painful  and  more  interesting :  the  lattice 
window  was  never  closed,  nor  was  the  leathern  easy 
chair,  which  stood  next  to  it,  ever  empty,  when  the 
usual  hour  of  the  Baronet's  momentary  visit  approach- 
ed. At  length  the  expectation  of  that  passing  minute 
became  the  pivot  upon  which  the  thoughts  of  poor 
Bridgenorth  turned  during  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  Most 
men  have  known  the  influence  of  such  brief  but  ruling 
moments  at  some  period  of  their  lives.  The  momen 
when  a  lover  passes  the  window  of  his  mistress— the 

vol.  i.  3 


26  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

moment  when  the  epicure  hears  the  dinner-bell,  is  that 
into  which  is  crowded  the  whole  interest  of  the  day — 
the  hours  which  precede  it  are  spent  in  anticipation  ; 
the  hours  which  follow,  in  reflection  on  what  has  pass- 
ed; and  fancy  dwelling  on  each  brief  circumstance, 
gives  to  seconds  the  duration  of  minutes,  to  minutes  that 
of  hours.  Thus  seated  in  his  lonely  chair,  Bridgenorth 
could  catch  at  a  distance  the  stately  step  of  Sir  Geof- 
frey, or  the  heavy  tramp  of  his  war-horse  Black  Hast- 
ings, which  had  Dome  him  in  many  an  action  ;  he  could 
hear  the  hum  of"  The  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again," 
or  the  habitual  whistle  of  u  Cuckolds  and  Roundheads," 
die  into  reverential  silence,  as  the  Knight  approached 
the  mansion  of  affliction  ;  and  then  came  the  strong  hale 
voice  of  the  huntsman-soldier  with  its  usual  greeting. 

By  degrees,  the  communication  became  something 
more  protracted,  as  Major  Bridgenorth's  grief,  like  all 
human  feelings,  lost  its  overwhelming  violence,  and 
permitted  him  to  attend  in  some  degree  to  what  passed 
around  him,  to  discharge  various  duties  which  pressed 
themselves,  and  to  give  a  share  of  attention  to  the  situ- 
ation of  the  country,  distracted  as  it  was  by  the  con- 
tending factions,  whose  strife  only  terminated  in  the 
Restoration.  Still,  however,  though  slowly  recovering 
from  the  effects  of  the  shock  which  he  had  sustained, 
Major  Bridgenorth  felt  himself  as  yet  unable  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  the  effort  necessary  to  see  his  infant ; 
and  though  separated  by  so  brief  a  space  from  the  being 
in  whose  existence  he  was  more  interested  than  in  any 
thing  the  world  afforded,  he  only  made  himself  acquaint- 
ed with  the  windows  of  the  apartment  where  little 
Alice  was  lodged,  and  was  often  observed  to  watch 
them  from  the  terrace  as  they  brightened  in  the  even- 
ing under  the  influence  of  the  setting  sun.  In  truth, 
though  a  strong-minded  man  in  most  respects,  he  was 
unable  to  lay  aside  the  gloomy  impression  that  this  re- 
maining pledge  of  affection  was  soon  to  be  conveyed  to 
that  grave  which  had  already  devoured  all  besides 
which  was  dear  to  him ;  and  he  awaited  in  miserable 
suspense  the  moment  when  he  should  hear  that  symp- 
toms of  the  fatal  malady  had  begun  to  show  them- 
selves. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  27 

But  the  voice  of  Peveril  continued  to  be  that  of  a 
comforter,  until  the  month  of  April,  1660,  when  it  sud- 
denly assumed  a  new  and  different  tone.  "  The  King 
shall  enjoy  his  own  again,"  far  from  ceasing  as  the 
hasty  tread  of  Black  Hastings  came  up  the  avenue,  bore 
burthen  to  the  clatter  of  his  hoofs  on  the  paved  court- 
yard, as  Sir  Geoffrey  sprang  from  his  great  war-saddle, 
now  once  more  garnished  with  pistols  of  two  feet  in 
length,  and,  armed  with  steel-cap,  back  and  breast,  and 
a  truncheon  in  his  hand,  he  rushed  into  the  apartment 
of  the  astonished  major,  with  his  eyes  sparkling,  and 
his  cheek  inflamed,  as  he  called  out — "  Up  !  up,  neigh- 
bour! No  time  now  to  mope  in  the  chimney-corner. 
Where  is  your  buff-coat  and  broadsword,  man  ?  Take 
the  true  side  once  in  your  life,  and  mend  past  mistakes. 
The  King  is  all  lenity,  man — all  royal  nature  and  mer- 
cy.    I  will  get  your  full  pardon.5' 

"  What  means  all  this  ?"  said  Bridgenorth — "  is  all 
well  with  you — all  well  at  Martindale  Castle,  Sir  Geof- 
frey ?" 

"  Well  as  you  could  wish  them,  Alice  and  Julian,  and 
all.  But  I  have  news  worth  twenty  of  that — Monk  has 
declared  at  London  against  those  stinking  scoundrels 
the  Rump.  Fairfax  is  up  in  Yorkshire — for  the  King 
— for  the  King,  man  !  Churchmen,  Presbyterians  and 
all,  are  in  buff  and  bandelier  for  King  Charles.  I  have 
a  letter  from  Fairfax  to  secure  Derby  and  Chesterfield, 
with  all  the  men  I  can  make.  D — n  him,  fine  that  I 
should  take  orders  from  him!  But  never  mind  that — 
all  are  friends  now,  and  you  and  1,  good  neighbour, 
will  charge  abreast,  as  good  neighbours  should.  See 
there,  read — read — read — and  then  boot  and  saddle  in 
an  instant. 

"  Hey  for  cavaliers — ho  for  cavaliers. 
Pray  for  cavaliers, 

Dub-a-dub,  dub-a-dub, 

Have  at  old  Beelzebub, 
Oliver  shakes  in  his  bier." 

After  thundering  forth  this  elegant  effusion  of  loyal 
enthusiasm,  the  sturdy  cavalier's  heart  became  too  full. 


28  PEVERIL  OF  THE   PEAK. 

He  threw  himself  in  a  seat,  and  exclaiming,  "  Did  ever 
1  think  to  live  to  see  this  happy  day!"  he  wept  to  his 
own  surprise,  as  much  as  to  that  of  Bridgenorth. 

Upon  considering  the  crisis  in  which  the  country 
was  placed,  it  appeared  to  Major  Bridgenorth,  as  it  had 
done  to  Fairfax,  and  other  leaders  of  the  Presbyterian 
party,  that  their  frank  embracing  of  the  royal  interest 
was  the  wisest  and  most  patriotic  measure  which  they 
could  adopt  in  the  circumstances,  when  all  ranks  and 
classes  of  men  were  seeking  refuge  from  the  uncertain- 
ty and  varied  oppression  attending  the  repeated  contests 
between  the  factions  of  Westminster  Hall  and  of  Wal- 
lingford  House.  Accordingly  he  joined  with  Sir  Geof- 
frey, with  less  enthusiasm  indeed,  but  with  equal  since- 
rity, taking  such  measures  as  seemed  proper  to  secure 
their  part  of  the  country  on  the  King's  behalf,  which 
was  as  effectually  and  peaceably  executed  as  in  other 
parts  of  England.  The  neighbours  were  both  at  Ches- 
terfield when  the  news  arrived  that  the  King  was  landed 
in  England  ;  and  Sir  Geoffrey  instantly  announced  his 
purpose  of  waiting  upon  his  Majesty,  even  before  his 
return  to  the  Castle  of  Martindale. 

"  Who  knows,  neighbour,"  he  said,  "  whether  Sir 
Geoffrey  Peveril  will  ever  return  to  Martindale  ?  Titles 
must  be  going  amongst  them  yonder,  and  1  have  deser- 
ved something  among  the  rest. — Lord  Peveril  would 
sound  well — or  stay,  Earl  of  Martindale — no,  not  of 
Martindale — Earl  of  the  Peak. — Meanwhile  trust  your 
affairs  to  me— I  will  see  you  secured — I  would  you  had 
been  no  Presbyterian,  neighbour — a  knighthood, — I 
mean  a  knight-bachelor,  not  a  knight-baronet, — would 
have  served  your  turn  well/' 

"  I  leave  these  things  to  my  betters,  Sir  Geoffrey, '? 
said  the  Major,  "and  desire  nothing  so  earnestly  as  to 
find  all  well  at  Martindale  when  I  return." 

"  You  will — you  will  find  them  all  well,"  said  the 
Baronet ;  "  Julian,  Alice,  Lady  Peveril,  and  all  of  them 
— bear  my  commendations  to  them,  and  kiss  them  all- 
neighbour,  Lady  Peveril  and  all — you  may  kiss  a  Coun- 
tess when  I  come  back ;  all  will  go  well  with  you  now 
vou  are  turned  honest  man." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  29 

"  I  always  meant  to  be  so,  Sir  Geoffrey,"  said  Bridge- 
north,  calmly. 

"Well,  well,  well— no  offence  meant,"  said  the 
Knight,  "all  is  well  now— so  you  to  Moultrassie  Hall, 
and  I  to  Whitehall.  Said  I  well,  aha!  So  ho,  mine 
host,  a  stoup  of  Canary  to  the  King's  health  ere  we  get 
to  horse — I  forgot,  neighbour — you  drink  no  healths." 

"  I  wish  the  King's  health  as  sincerely  as  if  I  drank 
a  gallon  to  it,"  replied  the  Major  ;  "  and  I  wish  you,  Sir 
Geoffrey,  all  success  on  your  journey  and  on  your  re- 
turn." 


CHAPTER  II. 

Why  then,  we  will  have  bellowing  of  beeves, 
Broaching  of  barrels,  brandishing  of  spiggots ; 
Blood  shall  flow  freely,  but  it  shall  be  gore 
Of  herds  and  flocks,  and  venison  and  poultry, 
Join'd  to  the  brave  hearts-blood  of  John-a-Barleycorn. 

Old  Flay. 

Whatever  rewards  Charles  might  have  condescend- 
ed to  bestow  in  acknowledgment  of  the  sufferings  and 
loyalty  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  he  had  none  in  his  dis- 
posal equal  to  the  pleasure  which  Providence  had  re- 
served for  Bridgenorth  on  his  return  to  Derbyshire. 
The  exertion  to  which  he  had  been  summoned,  had  had 
the  usual  effect  of  restoring  to  a  certain  extent  the  acti- 
vity and  energy  of  his  character,  and  he  felt  it  would  be 
unbecoming  to  relapse  into  the  state  of  lethargic  melan- 
choly from  which  it  had  roused  him.  Time  also  had 
its  usual  effect  in  mitigating  the  subjects  of  his  regret ; 
and  when  he  had  passed  one  day  at  the  Hall,  in  regret- 
ting that  he  could  not  expect  the  indirect  news  of  his 
daughter's  health,  which  Sir  Geoffrey  used  to  commu- 
nicate in  his  almost  daily  call,  he  reflected  that  it  would 
be  in  every  respect  becoming  that  he  should  pay  a  per- 
sonal visit  at  Martindale  Castle,  carry  thither  the  re- 
membrances of  the  knight  to  his  lady,  assure  her  of  his 
health,  and  satisfy  himself  respecting  that  of  his  daugh- 

3* 


30  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

ter.  He  armed  himself  for  the  worst — he  called  tore- 
collection  the  thin  cheeks,  faded  eye,  wasted  hand,  pal- 
lid lip,  which  had  marked  the  decaying  health  of  all  his 
former  infants. 

"  I  shall  see,"  he  said,  "  these  signs  of  mortality  once 
more — I  shall  once  more  see  a  beloved  being  to  whom 
I  have  given  birthgliding  to  the  grave  which  ought  to  en- 
close me  long  before  her.  No  matter — it  is  unmanly  so 
long  to  shrink  from  that  which  must  be — God's  will  be 
done." 

He  went,  accordingly,  on  the  subsequent  morning, 
io  Martindale  Castle,  and  gave  the  lady  the  welcome 
assurances  of  her  husband's  safety,  and  of  his  hopes  of 
preferment. 

"  For  the  first,  may  Almighty  God  be  praised  !"  said 
the  Lady  Peveril  ;  "and  be  the  other  as  our  gracious 
and  restored  Sovereign  may  will  it.  We  are  great 
enough  for  our  means,  and  have  means  sufficient  for 
contentment,  though  not  for  splendour.  And  now  I 
see,  good  Master  Bridgenorth,  the  folly  of  putting  faith 
in  idle  presentiments  of  evil.  So  often  had  Sir  Geof- 
frey's repeated  attempts  in  favour  of  the  Stuarts  led 
him  into  new  misfortunes,  that  when,  the  other  morn- 
ing, I  saw  him  once  more  dressed  in  his  fatal  armour, 
and  heard  the  long  silent  sound  of  his  trumpet,  it  seem- 
ed to  me  as  if  I  saw  his  shroud  and  heard  his  death- 
knell.  I  say  this  to  you,  good  neighbour,  the  rather 
because  I  fear  your  own  mind  has  been  harassed  with 
anticipations  of  impending  calamity,  which  it  may  please 
God  to  avert  in  your  case  as  it  has  done  in  mine ;  and 
here  comes  a  sight  which  bears  good  assurance  of  it.'" 

The  door  of  the  apartment  opened  as  she  spoke,  and 
two  lovely  children  entered.  The  eldest,  Julian  Pe- 
veril, a  line  boy  betwixt  four  and  five  years  old,  led  in 
his  hand,  with  an  air  of  dignified  support  and  attention, 
a  little  girl  of  eighteen  months,  who  rolled  and  tottered 
along,  keeping  herself  with  difficulty  upright  by  the 
assistance  of  her  elder,  stronger,  and  masculine  com- 
panion. 

Bridgenorth  cast  a  hasty  and  fearful  glance  upon  the 
countenance  of  his  daughter,  and  even  in  that  glimpse. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  31 

perceived,  with  exquisite  delight,  that  his  fears  were 
unfounded.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  pressed  her  to 
his  heart,  and  the  child,  though  at  first  alarmed  at  the 
vehemence  of  his  caresses,  presently,  as  if  prompted  by 
Nature,  smiled  in  reply  to  them.  Again  he  held  her  at 
some  distance  from  him,  and  examined  her  more  atten- 
tively ;  he  satisfied  himself  that  the  complexion  of  the 
young  cherub  he  had  in  his  arms  was  not  the  hectic 
tinge  of  disease,  but  the  clear  hue  of  ruddy  health  ;  and 
that  though  her  little  frame  was  slight,  it  was  firm  and 
springy. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  it  could  have  been  thus,"  he 
said,  looking  to  Lady  Peveril.  who  had  sat  observing 
the  scene  with  great  pleasure  ;  "  but  praise  be  to  God 
in  the  first  instance,  and  next  thank  to  you,  madam,  who 
have  been  his  instrument." 

"  Julian  must  lose  his  play-fellow  now,  I  suppose  ?" 
said  the  lady  ;  "  but  the  Hall  is  not  distant,  and  I  will 
see  my  little  charge  often.  Dame  Martha,  the  house* 
keeper  at  Moultrassie,  has  sense,  and  is  careful.  I 
will  tell  her  the  rules  I  haye  observed  with  little  Alice, 
and » 

"  God  forbid  my  girl  should  ever  come  to  Moultras- 
sie," said  Major  Bridgenorth  hastily  ;  "  it  has  been  the 
grave  of  her  race.  The  air  of  the  low  grounds  suited 
(hem  not — or  there  is  perhaps  a  fate  connected  with 
the  mansion.  I  will  seek  for  her  some  other  place  of 
abode." 

<;  That  you  shall  not,  under  your  favour  be  it  spoken, 
Major  Bridgenorth,"  answered  the  lady.  "  If  you  do 
so,  we  must  suppose  that  you  are  undervaluing  my 
qualities  as  a  nurse.  If  she  goes  not  to  her  father's 
house,  she  shall  not  quit  mine.  I  will  keep  the  little 
lady  as  a  pledge  of  her  safety  and  my  own  skill ;  and 
since  you  are  afraid  of  the  damp  of  the  low  grounds,  I 
hope  you  will  come  here  frequently  to  visit  her." 

This  was  *a  proposal  which  went  to  the  heart  of  Ma- 
jor Bridgenorth.  it  was  precisely  the  point  which  he 
would  have  given  worlds  to  arrive  at.  but  which  he  saw 
no  chance  of  attaining. 


32  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

It  is  too  well  known,  that  those  whose  families  are 
long  pursued  by  such  a  fatal  disease  as  existed  in  his. 
become,  it  may  be  said,  superstitious  respecting  its  fatal 
effects,  and  ascribe  to  place,  circumstance,  and  indivi- 
dual care,  much  more  perhaps  than  these  can  in  any 
case  contribute  to  avert  the  fatality  of  constitutional 
distemper.  Lady  Peveri)  was  aware  that  this  was  pe- 
culiarly the  impression  of  her  neighbour;  that  the  de- 
pression of  his  spirits,  the  excess  of  his  care,  the  fever- 
ishness  of  his  apprehensions,  the  restraint  and  gloom  of 
the  solitude  in  which  he  dwelt,  were  really  calculated 
to  produce  the  evil  which  most  of  all  he  dreaded.  She 
pitied  him,  she  felt  for  him.  she  was  grateful  for  former 
protection  received  at  his  hands — she  had  become  inte- 
rested in  the  child  itself.  What  female  fails  to  feel 
such  interest  in  the  helpless  creature  she  has  tended  ? 
And  to  sum  the  whole  up,  the  dame  had  a  share  of  hu- 
man vanity  ;  and  being  a  sort  of  Lady  Bountiful  in  her 
way,  (for  the  character  was  not  then  confined  to  the  old 
and  the  foolish.)  she  was  proud  of  the  skill  by  which 
she  had  averted  the  probable  attacks  of  hereditary  ma- 
lady, so  inveterate  in  the  family  of  Bridgenorth.  It 
needed  not,  perhaps,  in  other  cases,  that  so  many  rea- 
sons should  be  assigned  for  an  act  of  neighbourly  hu- 
manity ;  but  civil  war  had  so  lately  torn  the  country 
asunder,  and  broken  all  the  usual  ties  of  vicinage  and 
good  neighbourhood,  that  it  was  unusual  to  see  them 
preserved  among  persons  of  different  political  opinions. 

Major  Bridgenorth  himself  felt  this  ;  and  while  the 
tear  of  joy  in  his  eye  showed  how  gladly  he  would 
accept  Lady  Peveril's  proposal,  he  could  not  help  sta- 
ting the  obvious  inconveniences  attendant  upon  her 
scheme,  though  it  was  in  the  tone  of  one  who  would 
gladly  hear  them  overruled.  "  Madam,"  he  said, 
''your  kindness  makes  me  the  happiest  and  most  thank- 
ful of  men  :  but  can  it  be  consistent  with  your  own 
convenience  ?  Sir  Geoffrey  has  his  opinions  on  many 
points,  which  have  differed,  and  probably  do  still  differ, 
from  mine.  He  is  high-born,  and  I  of  middling  parent- 
age only.     He   uses  the    Church  Service,  and  1  the 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  33 

Catechism  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines  at  Westmin- 
ster  " 

"I  hope  pou  will  find  prescribed  in  neither  of  them,'* 
said  the  Lady  Peveril,  "  that  I  may  not  be  a  mother  to 
your  motherless  child.  I  trust,  Master  Bridgenorth, 
the  joyful  Restoration  of  his  Majesty,  a  work  wrought 
by  the  direct  hand  of  Providence,  may  be  the  means  of 
closing  and  healing  all  civil  and  religious  dissensions 
among  us,  and  that,  instead  of  showing  the  superior 
purity  of  our  faith,  by  persecuting  those  who  think 
otherwise  ,from  ourselves  on  doctrinal  points,  we  will 
endeavour  to  show  its  real  Christian  tendency,  by  emu- 
lating each  other  in  actions  of  good  will  towards  man, 
as  the  best  way  of  showing  our  love  to  God." 

"  Your  ladyship  speaks  what  your  own  kind  heart 
dictates,"  answered  Bridgenorth,  who  had  his  own 
share  of  the  narrow-mindedness  of  the  time  ;  "  and 
sure  am  I,  that  if  all  who  call  themselves  loyalists  and 
cavaliers,  thought  like  you — and  like  my  friend  Sir 
Geoffrey — (this  he  added  after  a  moment's  pause,  being 
perhaps  rather  complimentary  than  sincere) — we,  who 
thought  it  our  duty  in  time  past  to  take  arms  for  free- 
dom of  conscience,  and  against  arbitrary  power,  might 
now  sit  down  in  peace  and  contentment.  But  I  wot  not 
how  it  may  fall.  You  have  sharp  and  hot  spirits 
among  you  ;  I  will  not  say  our  power  was  always  mode- 
rately used,  and  revenge  is  sweet  to  the  race  of  fallen 
Adam." 

"Come,  Master  Bridgenorth,"  said  the  Lady  Peve- 
ril, gayly,  "  these  evil  omenings  do  but  point  out  con- 
clusions, which,  unless  they  were  so  anticipated,  are 
most  unlikely  to  come  to  pass.  You  know  what  Shak^ 
=>peare  says  : 

'  To  fly  the  boar  before  the  boar  pursues, 

Were  to  incense  the  boar  to  follow  us, 

And  make  pursuits  when  he  did  mean  no  chase/ 

But  I  crave  your  pardon — it  is  so  long  since  we  have 
met,  that  I  forgot  you  love  no  play  books." 

"With  reverence  to  your  ladyship,"  said  Bridge- 
north,  "  I  were  much  to  blame   did  I  need  the  idle 


34  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

words  of  a  Warwickshire  stroller,  to  teach  me  my 
grateful  duty  to  your  ladyship  on  this  occasion,  which 
appoints  me  to  be  directed  by  you  in  all  things  which 
my  conscience  will  permit." 

u  Since  you  permit  me  such  influence,  then,"  replied 
the  Lady  Peveril,  %i  I  shall  be  moderate  in  exercising 
it,  in  order  that  I  may,  in  my  domination  at  least,  give 
you  a  favourable  impression  of  the  new  order  of  things. 
So,  if  you  will  be  a  subject  of  mine  for  one  day,  neigh- 
bour, 1  am  going,  at  my  lord  and  husband's  command,  to 
issue  out  my  warrants  to  invite  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood to  a  solemn  feast  at  the  Castle,  upon  Thursday 
next ;  and  I  not  only  pray  you  to  be  personally  present 
yourself,  but  to  prevail  on  your  worthy  pastor,  and  such 
neighbours  and  friends,  high  and  low,  as  may  think  in 
your  own  way  to  meet  with  the  rest  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, to  rejoice  on  this  joyful  occasion  of  the  King's 
Restoration,  and  thereby  to  show  that  we  are  to  be 
henceforward  a  united  people." 

The  parliamentarian  Major  was  considerably  embar- 
rassed by  this  proposal.  He  looked  upward,  and 
downward,  and  around,  cast  his  eye  first  to  the  oak- 
carved  ceiling,  and  anon  fixed  it  upon  the  floor;  then 
drew  it  around  the  room  till  it  lighted  on  his  child,  the 
sight  of  whom  suggested  another  and  a  better  train  of 
reflections  than  ceiling  and  floor  had  been  able  to  sup- 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  have  long  been  a  stranger  to 
festivity,  perhaps  from  constitutional  melancholy,  per- 
haps from  the  depression  which  is  natural  to  a  desolate 
and  deprived  man,  in  whose  ear  mirth  is  marred,  like  a 
pleasant  air  when  performed  on  a  mistuned  instrument. 
But  though  neither  my  thoughts  nor  temperament  are 
jovial  or  mercurial,  it  becomes  me  to  be  grateful  to 
Heaven  for  the  good  he  has  sent  me  by  the  means  of 
your  ladyship.  David,  the  man  after  God's  own  heart, 
did  wash  and  eat  bread  when  his  beloved  child  was  re- 
moved— mine  is  restored  to  me,  and  shall  I  not  show 
gratitude  under  a  blessing,  when  he  showed  resignation 
under  an  affliction  ?  Madam,  1  will  wait  on  your  gracious 
invitation  with  acceptance  ;  and  such  of  my  friends 


PEVERIL   OP    THE    PEAK.  35. 

with  whom  I  may  possess  influence,  and  whose  pre- 
sence your  ladyship  may  desire,  shall  accompany  me 
to  the  festivity,  that  our  Israel  may  be  as  one  people." 
Having  spoken  these  words  with  an  aspect  which  be- 
longed more  to  a  martyr  than  to  a  guest  bidden  to  a 
festival,  and  having  kissed,  and  solemnly  blessed  his 
little  girl,  Major  Bridgenorth  took  his  departure  for 
Moultrassie  Hall. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Here's  neither  want  of  appetite  nor  mouths ; 
Pray  Heaven  we  be  not  scant  of  meat  of  mirth ! 

Old  Play. 

Even  upon  ordinary  occasions,  and  where  means  were 
ample,  agreatentertainment  in  those  days  was  not  such 
a  sinecure  as  in  modern  times,  when  the  lady  who  pre- 
sides has  but  to  intimate  to  her  menials  the  day  and 
hour  when  she  wills  it  to  take  place.  At  that  simple 
period,  the  lady  was  expected  to  enter  deeply  into  the 
arrangement  and  provision  of  the  whole  affair ;  and  from 
a  little  gallery,  which  communicated  with  her  own  pri- 
vate apartment,  and  looked  down  upon  the  kitchen,  her 
shrill  voice  was  to  be  heard,  from  time  to  time,  like 
that  of  the  warning  spirit  in  a  tempest,  rising  above  the 
clash  of  pots  and  stew-pans — the  creaking  of  spits— 
the  clattering  of  marrow-bones  and  cleavers — the  scold- 
ing of  cooks — and  all  the  other  various  kinds  of  din 
which  form  an  accompaniment  to  the  dressing  a  large 
dinner. 

But  all  this  toil  and  anxiety  was  more  than  doubled 
in  the  case  of  the  approaching  feast  at  Martindale  Cas- 
tle, where  the  presiding  Genius  of  the  festivity  was 
scarce  provided  with  adequate  means  to  carry  her  hos- 
pitable purpese  into  effect.  The  tyrannical  conduct 
of  husbands,  in  such  cases,  is  universal ;  and  I  scarce 
know  one  householder  of  my  acquaintance  who  has 
not,  on  some  ill-omened  and  most  inconvenient  season. 


36  PEVEBIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

announced  suddenly  to  his  innocent  help-mate,  that  he 
had  invited 

"  Some  odious  Major  Rock, 
To  drop  in  at  six  o'clock," 

to  the  great  discomposure  of  the  lady,  and  the  discredit 
perhaps  of  her  domestic  arrangements. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak  was  still  more  thoughtless  ;  for 
he  had  directed  his  lady  to  invite  the  whole  honest  men 
of  the  neighbourhood  to  make  good  cheer  at  Martin- 
dak  Castle,  in  honour  of  the  blessed  Restoration  of  his 
most   Sacred    Majesty,   without   precisely   explaining 
where  the  provisions  were  to  come  from.     The  deer- 
park  had  lain  waste  ever  since  the  siege ;  the  dove- 
cot could  do  little  to  furnish  forth  such  an  entertain- 
ment; the  iish-ponds,  it  is  true,  were  well  provided, 
(which  the  neighbouring  Presbyterians  noted  as  a  sus- 
picious circumstance  ;)  and  game  was  to  be  had  for  the 
shooting,  upon  the  extensive  heaths  and  hills  of  Derby- 
shire.    But  these  were  but  the  secondary  parts  of  a 
banquet ;  and  the  house-steward  and  bailiff,  Lady  Pe- 
veril's  only  coadjutors  and  counsellors,  could  not  agree 
how  the  butcher-meat — the  most  substantial  part,  or, 
as  it  were,  the  main  body  of  the  entertainment — was 
to  be  supplied.     The  house-steward  threatened  the  sa- 
crifice of  a  fine  yoke  of  young  bullocks,  which  the  bai- 
liff, who  pleaded  the  necessity  of  their  agricultural  ser- 
vices, tenaciously  resisted  ;  and  Lady  Peveril's  good 
and  dutiful  nature  did  not  prevent  her  from  making 
some   impatient  reflections  on  the  want  of  considera- 
tion of  her  absent  Knight,  who  had  thus  thoughtlessly 
placed  her  in  so  embarrassing  a  situation. 

These  reflections  were  scarcely  just,  if  a  man  is  only 
responsible  for  such  resolutions  as  he  adopts  when  he 
is  fully  master  of  himself.  Sir  Geoffrey's  loyalty,  like 
that  of  many  persons  in  his  situation,  had,  by  dint  of 
hopes  and  fears,  victories  and  defeats,  struggles  and 
sufferings,  ail  arising  out  of  the  same  moving  cause, 
and  turning,  as  it  were,  on  the  same  pivot,  acquired  the 
character  of  an  intense  and  enthusiastic  passion  ;  and 
the  singular  and  surprising  change  of  fortune,  by  which 
his  highest  wishes  were  not  only  gratified,  but  far  ex- 


PBVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  P? 

Ceeded,  occasioned  for  some  time  a  kind  of  drunken? 
Bess  of  loyal  rapture,  which  seemed  to  pervade  the 
whole  kingdom.  Sir  Geoffrey  had  seen  Charles  and 
bis  brothers,  and  had  been  received  by  the  merry  mo- 
aarch  with  that  graceful,  and  at  the  same  time  frank,  ur- 
banity by  which  he  conciliated  all  who  approached  him  ; 
the  Knight's  services  and  merits  had  been  fully  ac- 
knowledged, and  recompense  had  been  hinted  at,  if  not 
expressly  promised.  Was  it  for  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  in 
the  jubilee  of  his  spirits,  to  consider  how  his  wife  was 
to  find  beef  and  mutton  to  feast  his  neighbour?  ? 

Luckily,  however,  for  the  embarrassed  lady,  theie 
existed  some  one  who  had  composure  of  mind  sufficient 
to  foresee  this  difficulty.  Just  as  she  had  made  up  her 
mind,  very  reluctantly,  to  become  debtor  to  Major 
Bridgenorth  for  the  sum  necessary  to  carry  her  hus- 
band's commands  into  effect,  and  whilst  she  was  bitterly 
regretting  this  departure  from  the  strictness  of  her  usual 
economy,  the  steward,  who,  by  the  by,  had  not  been 
absolutely  sober  since  the  news  of  the  King's  landing  at 
Dover,  burst  into  the  apartment,  snapping  his  fingers, 
and  showing  more  marks  of  delight  than  was  quite  con- 
sistent with  the  dignity  of  my  lady's  large  parlour. 

"What  means  tills.  Whitaker  ?"  said  the  lady,  some- 
what peevishly  ;  for  she  was  interrupted  in  the  com- 
mencement of  a  letter  to  her  neighbour  on  the  unplea- 
sant business  of  the  proposed  loan, — "  Is  it  to  be  always 
thus  with  you  ? — Are  you  dreaming  ?" 

';  A  vision  of  good  omen,  I  trust,"  said  the  steward. 
With  a  triumphant  flourish  of  the  hand  ;  "far  better 
than  Pharaoh's,  though,  like  his.  it  be  of  fatkine." 

"J  pr'ythee  be  plain,  man,"  said  the  lady,  "or  fetch 
some  one  who  can  speak  to  purpose." 

"  Why,  odds-my-life,  madaisj."  said  the  steward, 
:i  mine  errand  can  speak  for  itself*  Do  you  not  hear 
them  low  ?  Do  you  not  h^ar  them  bleat  ?  A  yoke  of  fat 
oxen,  and  half  a  score  prime  wethers.  The  castle  is 
victualled  for  this  bout,  let  them  storm  when  they  will ; 
and  Gatherill  may  have  his  damned  Mai'is  ploughed  to 
(he  boot." 

The  lady,  without  fur:her  questioning  her  elated  do.- 

VOL.    I.  <i 


i8  TEVERIL    OR    THE    PEAK. 

mestic,  rose  and  went  to  the  window,  where  she  cei> 
tainly  beheld  the  oxen  and  sheep  which  had  given  rise 
to  Whitaker's  exultation.  "  Whence  come  they  ?"  said 
she  in  some  surprise. 

"  Let  them  construe  that  who  can,"  answered  White* 
ker  ;  "  the  fellow  who  drove  them  was  a  west-country* 
man,  and  only  said  they  came  from  a  friend  to  help  to 
furnish  out  your  ladyship's  entertainment  ;  the  man 
would  not  stay  to  drink — -I  am  sorry  he  would  not  stay 
to  drink — I  crave  your  ladyship's  pardon  for  not  keeping 
him  by  the  ears  to  drink — it  was  not  my  fault." 

"  That  I'll  be  sworn  it  was  not,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Nay,  madam,  by  G — ,  I  assure  you  it  was  not,57 
said  the  zealous  steward;  ;;  for  rather  than  the  Castle 
should  lose  credit,  1  drank  his  health  myself  in  double 
ale,  though  I  had  had  my  morning  draught  already.  I 
tell  you  the  naked  truth,  my  lady,  by  G — ." 

"  It  was  no  great  compulsion,  1  suppose,"  said  the 
lady  ;  "  but,  Whitaker,  suppose  you  should  show  your 
joy  on  such  occasions,  by  drinking  and  swearing  a  little 
Jess,  rather  than  a  little  more,  would  it  not  be  as  well* 
think  you  ?" 

u  I  crave  your  ladyship's  pardon,"  said  Whitaker, 
with  much  reverence  ;  "  I  hope  I  know  my  place.  I 
am  your  ladyship's  poor  servant  ;  and  I  know  it  dees  not 
become  me  to  drink  and  swear  like  your  ladyship — 
that  is,  like  his  honour,  Sir  Geoffrey,  I  would  say.  But 
I  pray  you,  if  I  am  not  to  drink  and  swear  after  my  de- 
gree, how  are  men  to  know  Pcveril  of  the  Peak's  stew- 
ard,— and  I  may  say  butler  too,  since  1  have  had  the 
keys  of  the  cellar  ever  since  old  Spiggots  was  shot  dead 
on  the  northwest  turret,  with  a  blackjack  in  his  hand. 
< — I  say,  how  is  an  old  cavalier  like  me  to  be  known  from 
those  cuckoldy  Soundheads  that  do  nothing  but  fast 
and  pray,  if  we  are  not  to  drink  and  swear  according  to 
our  degree  ?" 

The  lady  was  silent,  for  she  well  knew  speech  availed 
nothing  ;  and,  after  a  moment's  pause,  proceeded  to  in- 
timate to  the  steward  that  she  would  have  the  persons, 
whose  names  were  marked  in  a  written  paper,  which 
she  delivered  to  him,  invited  to  the  approaching  ban- 
quet. 


PEVEItIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  S9 

Whitaker,  instead  of  receiving  the  list  with  the  mute 
acquiescence  of  a  modern  Major  Domo,  carried  it  into 
the  recess  of  one  of  the  windows,  and,  adjusting  his  spec- 
tacles, began  to  read  it  to  himself.  The  first  names  be- 
ing those  of  distinguished  cavalier  families  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, he  muttered  over  in  a  tone  of  approbation — 
paused  and  pshawed  at  that  of  Bridgenorth— yet  acqui- 
esced, with  the  observation,  "  But  he  is  a  good  neigh- 
bour, so  it  may  pass  for  once.''  But  when  he  read  the 
name  and  surname  of  Nehemiah  Solsgrace,  the  Presby- 
terian parson,  Whitaker's  patience  altogether  forsook 
him;  and  he  declared  he  would  as  soon  throw  himself 
into  Eldon-hole,  as  consent  that  the  intrusive  old  puri- 
tan howlet,  who  had  usurped  the  pulpit  of  a  sound  or- 
thodox divine,  should  ever  darken  the  gates  of  Martin- 
dale  Castle  by  any  message  or  mediation  of  his.  k*  The 
false  crop-eared  hypocrites,"  cried  he,  with  a  hearty 
oath,  "  have  had  their  turn  of  the  good  weather.  The 
sun  is  on  our  side  of  the  hedge  now,  and  we  will  pay  oft" 
old  scores,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Richard  Whitaker." 

u  You  presume  on  your  long  services,  Whitaker,  and- 
on  your  master's  absence,  or  you  had  not  dared  to  use 
me  thus,"  said  the  lady. 

The  unwonted  agitation  of  her  voice  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  the  refractory  steward,  notwithstanding  his 
present  state  of  elevation  ;  but  he  no  sooner  saw  that 
her  eye  glistened,  and  her  cheek  reddened,  than  his  ob- 
stinacy was  at  once  subdued.  fct  A  murrain  on  me,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  have  made  my  lady  angry  in  good  earnest ! 
and  that  is  an  unwonted  sight  for  to  see. — I  crave  your 
pardon,  my  lady  !  It  was  not  poor  Dick  Whitaker  dis- 
puted your  honourable  commands,  but  only  that  second 
draught  of  double  ale.  We  have  put  a  double  stroke 
of  malt  to  it,  as  your  ladyship  well  knows,  ever  since 
the  happy  Restoration.  To  be  sure,  1  hate  a  fanatic 
as  I  do  the  cloven  foot  of  Satan  ;  but  then  your  honoura- 
ble ladyship  hath  a  right  to  invite  Satan  himself,  cloven 
foot  and  all  to  Martindale  Castle  ;  and  to  send  me  to 
hell's-gate  with  a  billet  of  invitation — and  so  your  will 
?hall  be  done." 

The  invitations  were  sent  round  accordingly,  in  all 


1$  FEVLTtlL    OF    THE    FEAK, 

dine  form;  and  one  of  the  bullocks  was  sent  down  to  be 
roasted  whole  at  the  market-place  of  a  little  village  call- 
ed Martindale-Moultrassie,  which  stood  considerably  t© 
the  eastward  both  of  the  Castle  and  Hall,  from  which  it 
took  its  double  name,  at  about  an  equal  distance  from 
1)0 th ;  so  that  suppose  a  line  drawn  from  the  one  ma- 
nor-house to  the  other,  to  be  the  base  of  a  triangle,  the 
Village  would  have  occupied  the  salient  angle.  As  the 
said  village,  since  the  late  transference  of  a  part  of  Pe- 
veril's  property,  belonged  to  Sir  Geoffrey  and  t© 
Bridgenorth,  in  nearly  equal  portions,  the  lady  judged 
it  not  proper  to  dispute  the  right  of  the  latter  to  add 
some  hogsheads  of  beer  to  the  popular  festivity. 

In  the  meanwhile,  she  could  not  but  suspect  the  Ma- 
jor of  being  the  unknown  friend  who  had  relieved  her 
from  the  dilemma  arising  from  the  want  of  provisions  ; 
and  she  esteemed  herself  happy  when  a  visit  from  him, 
on  the  day  preceding  the  proposed  entertainment,  gave 
;her,  as  she  thought,  an  opportunity  of  expressing  her 
gratitude. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

No,  sir — 1  wiil  not  pledge — I'm  one  of  (hose 
Who  think  good  wine  needs  neither  bush  nor  preface- 
To  make  it  welcome.    If  you  doubt  my  word, 
Fill  the  quart-cup,  and  see  if  I  will  choke  ou't. 

Old  PIqjj 

There  was  a  serious  gravity  of  expression  in  the 
disclamation  with  which  Major  Bridgenorth  replied  to 
the  thanks  tendered  to  him  by  Lady  Peveril,  for  the 
supply  of  provisions  which  had  reached  her  Castle  so 
opportunely.  He  seemed  first  not  to  be  aware  what 
she  alluded  to,  and  when  she  explained  the  circum* 
stance,  he  protested  so  seriously  that  he  had  no  share  in 
the  benefit  conferred,  that  Lady  Peveril  was  compelled 
to  believe  him  ;  the  rather  that,  being  a  man  of  a  plain 
downright  character,  affecting  no  refined  delicacy  of 
sentiment,  and  practising.almost  a  quaker-like  sincerity 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  4! 

of  expression,  it  would  have  been  much  contrary  to  his 
general  character  to  have  made  such  a  disavowal,  un- 
less it  were  founded  in  truth. 

"  My  present  visit  to  you,  madam,"  said  he,  4'  had 
indeed  some  reference  to  the  festivity  of  to-morrow.'* 
Lady  Peveril  listened,  but  as  her  visiter  seemed  to 
find  some  difficulty  in  expressing  himself,  she  was  com- 
pelled to  ask  an  explanation.  kk  Madam,"  said  the 
Major,  "  you  are  not  perhaps  entirely  ignorant  that  the 
more  tender-conscienced  among  us  have  scruples  at  cer- 
tain practices,  so  general  among  your  people  at  times  of 
rejoicing,  that  you  may  be  said  to  insist  upon  them  as 
articles  of  faith,  or  at  least  greatly  to  resent  their  omis- 
sion." 

"  I  trust,  Master  Bridgenorth,"  said  the  Lady  Peveril, 
not  fully  comprehending  the  drift  of  his  discourse, 
M  that  we  shall,  as  your  entertainers,  carefully  avoid 
all  allusions  or  reproaches  founded  on  past  misunder- 
standing." 

M  We  would  expect  no  less,  madam,  from  your  can- 
dour and  courtesy,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  but  1  perceive 
you  do  not  fully  understand  me.  To  be  plain,  then,  1 
allude  to  the  fashion  of  drinking  healths,  and  pledging 
each  other  in  draughts  of  strong  liquor,  which  most 
among  us  consider  as  a  superfluous  and  sinful  provoking 
of  each  other  to  debauchery,  and  the  excessive  use  of 
strong  drink  ;  and  which,  besides,  if  derived,  as  learned 
divines  have  supposed,  from  the  custom  of  the  blinded 
Pagans,  who  made  libations  and  invoked  idols  when 
they  drank,  may  be  justly  said  to  have  something  in  it 
heathenish,  and  allied  to  demon-worship." 

The  lady  had  already  hastily  considered  all  the  topics 
which  were  likely  to  introduce  discord  into  the  proposed 
festivity,  but  this  very  ridiculous,  yet  fatal  discrepancy, 
betwixt  the  manners  of  the  parties  on  the  convivial 
occasions,  had  entirely  escaped  her.  She  endeavour- 
ed to  sooth  the  objecting  party,  whose  brows  were  kni;. 
)ike  one  w*ho  had  fixed  an  opinion  by  which  he  was 
determined  to  abide. 

i;  I  grant,"  she  said,  "  my  good  neighbour,  that  this 
custom  is  at   least  idle,  and  may  De  prejudicial  if  it 

4* 


%£  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

leads  to  excess  in  the  use  of  liquor,  which  is  aptenougli 
to  take  place  without  such  conversation.  But  I  think, 
when  it  hath  not  this  consequence,  it  is  a  thing  indiffe- 
rent, affords  an  unanimous  mode  of  expressing  our  good 
wishes  to  our  friends,  and  our  loyal  duty  to  our  sove- 
reign ;  and,  without  meaning  to  put  any  force  upon  the 
inclination  of  those  who  believe  otherwise,  I  cannot  see 
how  I  can  deny  my  guests  and  friends  the  privilege  of 
drinking  a  health  to  the  King,  or  to  my  husband,  after 
tfte  old  English  fashion." 

"  My  Lady,"  said  the  Major,  "  if  the  age  of  fashion 
were  to  commend  it,  Popery  is  one  of  the  oldest  Eng- 
lish fashions  that  I  have  heard  of;  but  it  is  our  happi- 
ness that  we  are  not  benighted  like  our  fathers,  and 
therefore  we  must  act  according  to  the  light  that  is  in 
US,  and  not  after  their  darkness.  I  had  myself  the  ho- 
ttourto  attendthe  Lord-KeeperWhitelocke,  when,atthe 
table  of  the  Chamberlain  of  the  kingdom  of  Sweden, 
he  did  positively  refuse  to  pledge  the  health  of  his 
Queen,  Christiana,  thereby  giving  great  offence,  and 
putting  in  peril  the  whole  purpose  of  that  voyage ;  whicb 
it  is  not  to  be  thought  so  wise  a  man  would  have  done,, 
but  that  he  held  such  compliance  a  thing  not  merely  is 
different,  but  rather  sinful  and  damnable. " 

"With  all  respect  to  Whitelocke,"  said  the  Lady 
Feveril,  "  I  continue  of  my  own  opinion,  though,  heaven 
knows,  I  am  no  friend  to  riot  or  wassail.  I  would  faia 
accommodate  myself  to  your  scruples,  and  will  discour- 
age all  other  pledges  ;  but  surely  those  of  the  King  am! 
of  Peveril  of  the  Peak  may  be  permitted." 

"  I  dare  not,"  answered  Bridgenorth,  "  lay  even  the 
ninety-ninth  part  of  a  grain  of  incense  upon  an  altar 
erected  to  Satan." 

"  How,  Sir  !"  said  the  lady  j  "  Do  you  bring  Satau 
into  comparison  with  our  master  King  Charles,  and 
with  my  noble  lord  and  husband?" 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  answered  Bridgenorth,  "  3 
have  no  such  thoughts — indeed  they  would  ill  become 
me.  1  do  wish  the  King's  health  and  Sir  Geoffrey's  de- 
voutly, and  I  will  pray  for  both.  But  1  see  not  what 
^ood  it  should  do  their  health  if  I  should  prejudice  i©t 
own  by  quaffing  pledges  out  of  quart  flaggons*" 


PEVBRIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  43 

:i  Since  we  cannot  agree  upon  this  matter,"  said  Lady 
Peveril,  "  we  must  find  some  resource  by  which  to  of- 
fend those   of  neither  party.     Suppose  you  winked  at 
our  friends  drinking  these  pledges,  and  we  should  con 
nive  at  your  sitting  still  ?" 

But  neither  would  this  composition  satisfy  Bridge 
north,  who  was  of  opinion,  as  he  expressed  himself,  that 
it  would  be  holding  a  candle  to  Belzebub.  In  fact,  his 
temper,  naturally  stubborn,  was  at  present  rendered 
much  more  so  by  a  previous  conference  with  his  preach- 
er, who,  though  a  very  good  man  in  the  main,  was  par- 
ticularly and  illiberally  tenacious  of  the  petty  distinc* 
tions  which  his  sect  adopted  ;  and  while  he  thought  with 
considerable  apprehension  on  the  accession  of  power 
which  Popery,  Prelacy,  and  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  were 
like  to  acquire  by  the  late  Revolution,  became  naturally 
anxious  to  put  his  flock  on  their  guard,  and  prevent 
their  being  kidnapped  by  the  wolf.  He  disliked  ex- 
tremely that  Major  Bridgenorth,  indisputably  the  head 
of  the  Presbyterian  interest  in  that  neighbourhood, 
should  have  given  his  only  daughter  to  be,  as  he  termed 
it,  nursed  by  a  Canaauitish  woman  ;  and  he  told  him 
plainly  that  he  liked  not  this  going  to  feast  in  the  high 
places  with  the  uncircumcised  in  heart,  and  looked  on 
the  whole  conviviality  only  as  a  making  merry  in  the 
house  of  Tirzah. 

Upon  receiving  this  rebuke  from  his  pastor,  Bridge* 
north  began  to  suspect  he  might  have  been  partly  wrong 
in  the  readiness  which,  in  his  first  ardour  of  gratitude, 
he  had  shown  to  enter  into  intimate  intercourse  with 
the  Castle  of  Martindale  ;  but  he  was  too  proud  to 
avow  this  to  the  preacher,  and  it  was  not  till  after  a 
considerable  debate  betwixt  them,  that  it  was  mutually 
agreed  their  presence  at  the  entertainment  should  de 
pend  upon  the  condition,  that  no  healths  or  pledges 
should  be  given  in  their  presence.  Bridgenorth,  there- 
fore, as  the  delegate  and  representative  of  his  party- 
Was  bound  to  stand  firm  against  all  entreaty,  and  the 
lady  became  greatly  embarrassed.  She  now  regretted 
sincerely  that  her  well-intended  invitation  had  ever 
freen  given,  for  she  foresaw  that  its   rejection  was  t$ 


44  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

awaken  all  former  subjects  of  quarrel,  and  perhaps  tti 
lead  to  new  violences  among  people  who  had  not  many 
years  since  been  engaged  in  civil  war.  To  yield  up 
the  disputed  point  to  the  Presbyterians,  would  have 
been  to  offend  the  Cavalier  party,  and  Sir  Geoffrey  in 
particular,  in  the  most  mortal  degree  ;  for  they  made  it 
as  firm  a  point  of  honour  to  give  healths,  and  compel 
others  to  pledge  them,  as  the  Puritans  made  it  a  deep 
article  of  religion  to  refuse  both.  At  length  the  lady 
changed  the  discourse,  introduced  that  of  Major  Bridge- 
north's  child,  caused  it  to  be  sent  for,  and  put  into  his 
arms.  The  mother's  stratagem  took  effect ;  for,  though 
the  parliamentarian  Major  stood  firm,  the  father,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Governor  of  Tilbury,  was  softened, 
and  he  agreed  that  his  friends  should  accept  a  compro- 
mise. This  was,  that  the  Major  himself,  the  reverend 
divine,  and  such  of  their  friends  as  held  strict  Puritan 
tenets,  should  form  a  separate  party  in  the  Large  Par- 
lour, while  the  Ha!l  should  be  occupied  by  the  jovial 
Cavaliers  ;  and  that  each  party  should  regulate  their 
potations  after  their  own  conscience,  or  after  their  own 
fashion. 

Major  Bridgenorth  himself  seemed  greatly  relieved 
after  this  important  matter  had  been  settled.  He  had 
held  it  matter  of  conscience  to  be  stubborn  in  maintain- 
ing his  own  opinion,  but  was  heartily  glad  when  he 
escaped  from  the  apparently  inevitable  necessity  of 
affronting  Lady  Peveril,  by  the  refusal  of  her  invitation. 
He  remained  longer  than  usual,  and  spoke  and  smiled 
more  than  was  his  customs  His  first  care,  on  his  re- 
turn, was  to  announce  to  the  clergyman  and  his  congre- 
gation the  compromise  which  he  had  made,  and  this 
not  as  a  matter  for  deliberation,  but  one  upon  which  he 
had  already  resolved ;  and  such  was  his  authority 
among  them,  that  though  the  preacher  longed  to  pro- 
nounce a  separation  of  the  parties,  and  to  exclaim— 
;:  To  your  tents.  O  Israel  I"  he  did  not  see  the  chance 
of  being  seconded  by  so  many,  as  would  make  it  worth 
while  to  disturb  the  unanimous  acquiescence  in  their 
delegate's  proposal. 

Nevertheless,  each  party  being  put  upon  the  alert 
by  the  consequences  of  Major  Bridgenorth's  embassy. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  45 

so  many  points  of  doubt  and  delicate  discussion  were 
started  in  succession,  that  the  Lady  Peveril,  the  only 
person,  perhaps,  who  was  desirous  of  achieving  an 
effectual  reconciliation  between  them,  incurred,  in  re* 
ward  for  her  good  intentions,  the  censure  of  both  fac- 
tions, and  had  much  reason  to  regret  her  well  meant 
project  of  bringing  the  Capulets  and  Montagues  of 
Derbyshire  together  on  the  same  occasion  of  public 
festivity. 

As  it  was  now  settled  that  the  guests  were  to  form 
two  different  parties,  it  became  not  only  a  subject  of 
dispute  betwixt  themselves,  which  should  be  first  ad- 
mitted within  the  Castle  of  Martindale,  but  matter  of 
serious  apprehension  to  Lady  Peveril  and  Major  Bridge- 
north,  lest,  if  they  were  to  approach  by  the  same  ave» 
fiue  and  entrance,  a  quarrel  might  take  place  betwixt 
them,  and  proceed  to  extremities,  even  before  they 
ceached  the  place  of  entertainment.  The  lady  belie- 
ved she  had  discovered  an  admirable  expedient  for  pre- 
venting the  possibility  of  such  interference,  by  direct- 
ing that  the  cavaliers  should  be  admitted  bv  the  princi- 
pal entrance,  while  the  Roundheads  should  enter  the 
Castle  through  a  great  breach  which  had  been  made  in 
the  course  of  the  -iege,  and  across  which  there  had 
been  since  made  a  sort  of  by-path  to  drive  the  cattle 
down  to  their  pasture  in  the  wood.  By  this  contrivance 
the  Lady  Peveril  imagined  she  had  altogether  avoided 
the  various  risks  which  might  occur  from  two  such  par* 
ties  encountering  each  other,  and  disputing  for  prece- 
dence. Several  other  circumstances  of  less  importance 
were  adjusted  at  the  same  time,  and  apparently  so  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Presbyterian  teacher,  that,  in 
a  long  lecture  on  the  subject  of  the  Marriage  Garment- 
he  was  at  the  pains  to  explain  to  his  hearers,  that  out- 
ward apparel  was  not  alone  meant  by  that  scriptural 
expression,  but  also  a  suitable  frame  of  mind  for  enjoy* 
ment  of  peaceful  festivity  ;  and,  therefore,  he  exhorted 
the  brethren,  that  whatever  might  be  the  errors  of  the 
poor  blinded  malignants,  with  whom  they  were  in  some 
sort  to  eat  and  drink  upon  the  morrow,  they  ought  not 
on  this  occasion  to  show  any  evil  will  against  them,  lest 


16  FEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

they  should  therein  become  troublers  of  the  peace  oi 
Israel. 

Honest  Doctor  Dummerar,   the  ejected  Episcopal 
Vicar  of  Martindale  cum  Moultrassie,  preached  to  the 
Cavaliers  on  the  same  subject.     He  had  served  the  cure 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the   Rebellion,  and   was  in 
high  favour  with  Sir  Geoffrey,  not  merely  on  account  oi 
his  sound  orthodoxy  and  deep  learning,  but  his  exqui- 
site skill  in  placing  at  bowls,  and  his  facetious  conver- 
sation over  a  pipe  and  tankard  of  October.     For  these 
latter  accomplishments,  the  Doctor  had  the  honour  to 
he  recorded  by  old  Century  White  amongst  the  roll  oi 
lewd,  incompetent,  profligate  clergymen  of  the  Church 
of  England,  whom  he  denounced  to  God  and  man,  on 
account  chiefly  of  the  heinous  sin  of  playing  at  games 
of  skill  and  chance,  and  of  joining  in  the  social  meet- 
ings  of  their    parishioners.      When    the  King's  part} 
began  to  lose  ground,  Doctor  Dummerar  left  his  vicar- 
age, and,  betaking  himself  to  the  camp,  showed  upor: 
several  occasions,  when  acting  as  Chaplain  to  Sir  Geof- 
frey Peveril's  regiment,  that  his  portly  bodily  presence 
included  a  stout  and  masculine  heart.     When  all  was 
lost,  and  he  himself,  with  most  other  loyal  divines,  was 
deprived  of  his  living,  he  made  such  shift  as  he  could; 
now  lurking  in  the  garrets  of  old  friends  in  the  Univer- 
sity, who  shared  with  him,  and  such  as  him,  the  slender 
means  of  livelihood  which  the  evil  times  had  left  them  : 
and  now  lying  hid  in  the  houses  of  the  oppressed  and 
sequestrated  gentry,  who  respected  at  once  his  charac- 
ter and  sufferings,     When  the  Restoration  took  place. 
Doctor    Dummerar    emerged    from  some  one   of  his 
hiding  places,  and  hied   him   to    Martindale  Castle,  to 
enjoy  the  triumph  inseparable  from  this  happy  change. 
His  appearance  at  the  Castle  in  his  full  clerical  dress, 
and  the  warm   reception  which  he  received  from  the 
neighbouring  gentry,   added  not  a  little  to   the  alarm 
which  was  gradually  extending  itself  through  the  party 
which  were  so  lately  the  uppermost.     It  is  true  Doctor 
Dummerar  framed,   (honest,  worthy  man.)  no  extrava- 
gant views  of  elevation  or  preferment ;  but  the  proba^ 
bility  of  his  being  replaced  in  the  living,  from  which  he 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  47 

uad  been  expelled  under  very  flimsy  pretences,  inferred 
a  severe  blow  to  the  Presbyterian  divine,  who  could 
not  be  considered  otherwise  than  as  an  intruder.  The 
interest  of  the  two  preachers,  therefore,  as  well  as  the 
sentiments  of  their  nocks,  were  at  direct  variance  ;  and 
here  was  another  fatal  objection  in  the  way  of  Lady 
Peveril's  scheme  of  a  general  and  comprehensive  heal- 
ing ordinance. 

Nevertheless,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  Doctor 
Dummerar  behaved  as  handsomely  upon  the  occasion 
as  the  Presbyterian  incumbent  had  done.  It  is  true, 
that  in  a  sermon  which  he  preached  in  the  Castle  hall 
to  several  of  the  most  distinguished  cavalier  families, 
besides  a  world  of  boys  from  the  village,  who  went  to 
see  the  novel  circumstar.ee  of  a  parson  i'n  a  cossackand 
surplice,  he  went  at  great  length  into  the  foulness  of 
the  various  crimes  committed  by  trie  rebellious  party 
during  the  late  evil  times,  and  greatly  magnified  the 
merciful  and  peaceful  nature  of  the  honourable  Lady  of 
the  Manor,  who  condescended  to  look  upon,  or  receive 
into  her  house  in  the  way  of  friendship  and  hospitality, 
men  holding  the  principles  which  had  led  to  the  nvur- 
ther  of  the  King — the  slaying  and  despoiling  his  loyal 
subjects — and  the  plundering  and  breaking  down  of  the 
Church  of  God.  But  then  he  wiped  all  this  handsome- 
ly up  again  with  the  observation,  that  since  it  was  the 
will  of  their  gracious  and  newly-restored  sovereign,  and 
the  pleasure  of  the  worshipful  Lady  Peveril,  that  this 
contumacious  and  rebellious  race  should  be,  for  a  time. 
forborne  by  their  faithful  subjects,  it  would  be  highly- 
proper  that  all  the  loyal  liegemen  should,  for  the  pre- 
sent, eschew  subjects  of  dissension  or  quarrel  with  these 
-ons  of  Shimei  ;  which  lesson  of  patience  he  enforced 
by  the  comfortable  assurance,  that  they  could  not  long 
abstain  from  their  old  rebellious  practices  ;  in  which 
case  the  royalists  would  stand  exculpated  before  God 
Mild  man  in  extirpating  them  from  t\\c  face  of  the  earth. 

The  close  observer?  of  the  remarkable  passages  of 
the  times,  from  which  we  draw  the  events  of  our  his- 
tory, have  left  it  upon  record,  that  these  two  several 
sermons,  much  contrary,  doubtless,  to  the  intention  o{ 


48  PEVEEIL  OP  THE  PEAK* 

ine  worthy  divines  by  whom  they  were  delivered,  hatl' 
a  greater  effect  in  exasperating  than  in  composing  the 
disputes  betwixt  the  two  factions.  Under  such  evil 
auspices,  and  with  corresponding  forebodings  on  the 
mind  of  Lady  Peveril,  the  day  of  festivity  at  length 
arrived. 

By  different  routes,  and  forming  each  a  sort  of  pro- 
cession, as  if  the  adherents  of  each  party  were  desirous 
of  exhibiting  its  strength  and  numbers,  the  two  different 
factions  approached  Martindale  Castle  ;  and  so  different 
did  they  seem  in  dress,  aspect,  and  manners,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  revellers  of  a  bridal  party,  and  the  sad 
attendants  upon  a  funeral  solemnity,  were  moving  to- 
wards the  same  point  from  different  quarters. 

The  Puritanical  party  was  by  far  the  fewer  in  num- 
bers, for  which  two  excellent  reasons  might  be  given. 
In  the  first  place,  they  had  enjoyed  power  for  several 
years,  and,  of  course,  became  unpopular  among  the 
common  people,  never  at  any  time  attached  to  those, 
who,  being  in  the  immediate  possession  of  authority, 
are  often  obliged  to  employ  it  in  controlling  their  hu- 
mours. Besides,  the  country  people  of  England  had^ 
and  still  have,  an  animated  attachment  to  field  sports^ 
and  a  natural  unrestrained  joviality  of  disposition,  which 
rendered  them  impatient  under  the  severe  discipline  of 
the  fanatical  preachers  ;  and  were  not  less  naturally 
discontented  with  the  military  despotism  of  Cromwell's 
major-generais.  Secondly,  the  people  were  fickle  as 
Usual,  and  the  return  of  the  King  had  novelty  in  it,  and 
was  therefore  popular.  The  side  of  the  Puritans  was 
also  deserted  at  this  period  by  a  numerous  class  of 
more  thinking  and  prudential  persons,  who  never  for- 
sook them  till  they  became  unfortunate.  These  saga- 
cious personages  were  called  in  that  age  the  Waiters 
upon  Providence,  and  deemed  it  a  high  delinquency 
towards  heaven  if  they  afforded  countenance  to  any 
cause  longer  than  it  was  favoured  by  fortune. 

But,  though  thus  forsaken  by  the  fickle  and  the  selfish, 
a  solemn  enthusiasm,  a  stern  and  determined  depth  of 
principle,  a  confidence  in  the  sincerity  of  their  owb 
motives,   and   the  manly  English  pride  which  inclined 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK*  49 

them  to  cling  to  their  former  opinions,  like  the  travel- 
ler in  the  fable  to  his  cloak,  the  more  strongly  that  the 
tempest  blew  around  them,  detained  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Puritans  many,  who,  if  no  longer  formidable  from  num- 
bers, were  still  so  from  their  character.  They  con- 
sisted chiefly  of  the  middling  gentry,  with  others 'whom 
industry  or  successful  speculations  in  commerce  or  in 
mining  had  raised  into  eminence — the  persons  who  feel 
most  umbrage  from  the  overshadowing  aristocracy,  and 
are  usually  the  most  vehement  in  defence  of  what  they 
hold  to  be  their  rights.  Their  dress  was  in  general 
studiously  simple  and  unostentatious,  or  only  remark- 
able by  the  contradictory  affectation  of  extreme  sim- 
plicity or  carelessness.  The  dark  colour  of  their  cloaks, 
varying  from  absolute  black  to  what  was  called  sad- 
coloured, — their  steeple-crowned  hats,  with  their  broad 
shadowy  brims. — their  long  swords,  suspended  by  a 
simple  strap  around  the  loins,  without  shoulder-belt, 
sword-knot,  plate,  buckles,  or  any  of  the  other  decora- 
tions with  which  the  cavaliers  loved  to  adorn  their 
trusty  rapiers, — the  shortness  of  their  hair,  which  made 
their  ears  appear  of  disproportioned  size, — above  all. 
the  stern  and  gloomy  gravity  of  their  looks,  announced 
their  belonging  to  that  class  of  enthusiasts,  who,  reso- 
lute and  undismayed,  had  cast  down  the  former  fabric 
of  government,  and  who  now  regarded  with  somewhat 
more  than  suspicion  that  which  had  been  so  unexpect- 
edly substituted  in  its  stead.  There  was  gloom  in 
their  countenances,  but  it  was  not  that  of  dejection,  fai 
less  of  despair.  They  looked  like  veterans  after  a  de- 
feat, which  may  have  checked  their  career  and  wound- 
ed their  pride,  but  has  left  their  courage  undiminished* 

The  melancholy,  now  become  habitual,  which  over- 
cast Major  Bridgenorth's  countenance,  well  qualified 
him  to  act  as  the  chief  of  the  group  who  now  advanced 
from  the  village.  When  they  reached  the  point  by 
which  they  were  first  to  turn  aside  into  the  woods  which 
surrounded  the  Castle,  they  felt  a  momentary  impres- 
sion of  degradation,  as  if  they  were  yielding  the  high 
road  to  their  old  and  oft-defeated  enemies  the  Cavaliers. 
When  they  began  to  ascend  the  winding  path,  which 

vol.  i.  0 


60  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

had  been  the  daily  passage  of  the  cattle,  the  opening  of 
the  wooded  glade  gave  them  a  view  of  the  castle-ditch, 
half  choked  with  the  rubbish  of  the  breach,  and  of  fethe 
breach  itself,  which  was  made  at  the  angle  of  a  large 
square  flanking-tower,  one  half  of  which  had  been  bat- 
tered into  ruins,  while  the  other  fragment  remained  in 
a  state  strangely  shattered  and  precarious,  and  seemed 
to  be  tottering  above  the  huge  aperture  in  the  wall. 
A  stern  still  smile  was  exchanged  among  the  Puritans, 
as  the  sight  reminded  them  of  the  victories  of  former 
days.  Holdfast  Clegg,  a  millwright  of  Derby,  who  had 
been  himself  active  at  the  siege,  pointed  to  the  breach, 
and  said,  with  a  grim  smile  to  Mr.  Solsgrace,  "I  little 
thought,  that  when  my  own  hand  helped  to  level  the 
cannon  which  Oliver  pointed  against  yon  tower,  we 
should  have  been  obliged  to  climb  like  foxes  up  the 
very  walls  which  we  won  by  our  bow  and  by  our  spear. 
Methought  these  malignants  had  then  enough  of  shut- 
ting their  gates  and  making  high  their  horn  against  us." 

"  Be  patient,  my  brother,"  said  Solsgrace ;  "  be 
patient,  and  let  not  thy  soul  be  disquieted.  We  enter 
not  this  high  place  dishonourably,  seeing  we  ascend  by 
the  gate  which  the  Lord  opened  to  the  godly.'5 

The  words  of  the  pastor  were  like  a  spark  to  gun- 
powder. The  countenances  of  the  mournful  retinue 
suddenly  expanded,  and,  accepting  what  had  fallen  from 
him  as  an  omen  and  a  light  from  heaven  how  they  were 
to  interpret  their  present  situation,  they  uplifted,  with 
one  consent,  one  of  the  triumphant  songs  in  which  the 
Israelites  celebrated  the  victories  which  had  been  vouch- 
safed to  them  over  the  heathen  inhabitants  of  the  Pro- 
mised Land. — 

u  Let  God  arise,  and  then  bis  foes 

Shall  turn  themselves  to  flight, 
His  enemies  for  fear  shall  run, 

And  scatter  out  of  sight  j 

M  And  as  wax  melts  before  the  fire, 

And  wind  blows  smoke  away, 
So  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 

The  wicked  shall  decay. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  51 

•:  God's  army  twenty  thousand  \s: 

Of  angels  bright  and  strong, 
The  Lord  also  in  Sinai, 

Is  present  them  among. 

11  Thou  didst,  0  Lord,  ascend  on  high,. 

And  captive  ledst  them  all, 
Who,  in  times  past,  thy  chosen  flock 

In  bondage  did  enthral." 

These  sounds  of  devotional  triumph  reached  the  joyous 
band  of  the  Cavaliers,  who,  decked  in  whatever  pomp 
their  repeated  misfortunes  and  impoverishment  had  left 
them,  were  moving  towards  the  same  point,  though  by 
a  different  road,  and  were  filling  the  principal  avenue  to 
the  Castle,  with  tiptoe  mirth  and   revelry.     The  two 
parties  were  strongly  contrasted  ;  for,  during  that  period 
of  civil  dissension,  the  manners  of  the  different  factions 
distinguished  them  as  completely  as  separate  uniforms 
might  have  done.     If  the  Puritan  was  affectedly  plain 
in  his  dress,  and  ridiculously  precise  in  his  manners,  the 
Cavalier  often  carried  his  love  of  ornament  into  tawdrv 
finery,  and  his  contempt  of  hypocrisy   into  licentious 
profligacy.     Gay  gallant  fellows,  young  and  old,  throng- 
ed together  towards  the  ancient  Castle,  with  general 
and  joyous  manifestation  of  those  spirits,  which,  as  they 
had  been  buoyant  enough  to  support  their  owners  during 
the  worst  of  times,  as  they  termed  Oliver's  .usurpation, 
were  so  inflated  as  to  transport  them  nearly  beyond  the 
reach  of  sober  reason.     Feathers  waved,  lace  glittered, 
spears  jingled,  steeds  caracoled  ;  and  here  and  there  a 
petronel,  or  pistol,  was  fired  off  by  some  who  found  his 
own  natural  talents  for  making  a  noise  inadequate  to 
the  dignity  of  the  occasion.     Boys, — for,  as  we   said 
before,  the  rabble  were  with  the  uppermost  party,  as 
usual, — hallooed    and    whooped,     "  Down    with   the 
Rump,"  and  "  Fie  upon  Oliver!"  Musical  instruments, 
of  a3  many  different  fashions  as  were  then  in  use,  play- 
ed all  at  once,  and  without  any  regard  to  each  other's 
tune  ;  and  the  glee  of  the  occasion,  while  it  reconciled 
the  pride  of  the  high-born  of  the  party  to  fraternize 
with  the  general  route,  derived  an  additional  zest  from 


j2  peveril  of  the  peak. 

the  conscious  triumph,  that  their  exultation  was  heard 
by  their  neighbours,  the  crest-fallen  Roundheads. 

When  the  loud  and  sonorous  swell  of  the  psalm-tune, 
multiplied  by  all  the  echoes  of  the  cliffs  and  ruinous 
halls,  came  full  upon  their  ear,  as  if  to  warn  them  how 
little  thej  were  to  reckon  upon  the  depression  of  their 
adversaries,  at  first  it  was  answered  with  a  scornful 
laugh,  raised  to  as  much  height  as  the  scoffers'  lungs 
would  permit,  in  order  that  it  might  carry  to  the  psalmo- 
dists  the  contempt  of  their  auditors ;  but  this  was  a 
forced  exertion  of  party  spleen.  There  is  something  in 
melancholy  feelings  more  natural  to  an  imperfect  and 
suffering  state  than  in  those  of  gayety,  and  when  they 
are  brought  into  collision,  the  former  seldom  fail  to  tri- 
umph. If  a  funeral-train  and  wedding-procession  were 
to  meet  unexpectedly,  it  will  readily  be  allowed  that 
the  mirth  of  the  last  would  be  speedily  merged  in  the 
gloom  of  the  others.  But  the  Cavaliers,  moreover, 
had  sympathies  of  a  different  kind.  The  psalm-tune, 
which  now  came  rolling  on  their  ear,  had  been  heard 
too  often,  and  upon  too  many  occasions  had  preceded 
victory  gained  over  the  malignants,  to  permit  them, 
even  in  their  triumph,  to  hear  it  without  emotion. 
There  was  a  sort  of  pause,  of  which  the  party  them- 
selves seemed  rather  ashamed,  until  the  silence  was 
broken  by  the  stout  old  knight,  Sir  Jasper  Cranbourne. 
whose  gallantry  was  so  universally  acknowledged,  that 
he  could  afford,  if  we  may  use  such  an  expression,  to 
confess  emotions, which  men  whose  courage  was  in  any 
respect  liable  to  suspicion,  would  have  thought  it  im- 
prudent to  acknowledge. 

"  Adad,"  said  the  old  knight,  "  may  I  never  taste  cla- 
ret again,  if  that  is  not  the  very  tune  with  which  the 
prick-eared  villains  began  their  onset  at  Wiggan-lane. 
where  they  trowled  us  down  like  so  many  skittle  nine- 
pins !  Faith,  neighbours,  to  say  truth,  and  shame  the  de- 
vil, I  did  not  like  the  sound  of  it  above  half.'' 

"  If  I  thought  the  roundheaded  rogues  did  it  in  scorn 
of  us,"  said  Dick  Wildblood  of  the  Dale,  "  I  would  cud- 
gel their  psalmody  out  of  their  peasantry  throats  with 
this  very  truncheon  ;-'  a  motion  which,  being  seconded 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  DO 

by  old  Roger  Raine,  the  drunken  tapster  of  the  Peve- 
ril-arms  in  the  village,  might  have  brought  on  a  gene- 
ral battle,  but  that  Sir  Jasper  forbade  the  feud. 

"  We'll  have  no  ranting,  Dick,  said  the  old  Knight 
to  the  young  Franklin  5  "  adad,  man,  we'll  have  none, 
for  three  reasons ;  first,  because  it  would  be  ungentle 
to  Lady  Peveril ;  then,  because  it  is  against  the  King's 
peace  ;  and,  lastly,  Dick,  because  if  we  did  set  on  the 
psalm-singingknaves,  thou  mightest  come  by  the  worst, 
my  boy,  as  has  chanced  to  thee  before.'' 

"  Who,  1 !  Sir  Jasper?"  answered  Dick — "  1  come 
by  the  worst ! — I'll  be  d — d  if  it  ever  happened  but  in 
that  accursed  lane,  where  we  had  no  more  flank,  front 
or  rear,  than  if  we  had  been  so  many  herrings  in  a  bar* 
rel." 

"  That  was  the  reason,  I  fancy,"  answered  Sir  Jasper, 
"  that  you,  to  mend  the  matter,  scrambled  into  the 
hedge  and  stuck  there,  horse  and  man,  till  I  beat  thee 
through  it  with  my  leading  staff;  and  then,  instead  of 
charging  to  the  front,  you  went  right-about,  and  away 
as  fast  as  your  feet  could  carry  you." 

This  reminiscence  produced  a  laugh  at  Dick's  ex- 
pense, who  was  known,  or  at  least  suspected,  to  have 
more  tongue  in  his  head  than  mettle  in  his  bosom.  And 
this  sort  of  rallying  on  the  part  of  the  knight  having 
fortunately  abated  the  resentment  which  had  begun  to 
awaken  in  the  breasts  of  the  royalist  cavalcade,  further 
cause  for  offence  was  removed,  by  the  sudden  ceasing 
of  the  sounds  which  they  had  been  disposed  to  interpret 
into  those  of  premeditated  insult. 

This  was  owing  to  the  arrival  of  the  Puritans  at  the 
bottom  of  the  large  and  wide  breach,  which  had  been 
formerly  made  in  the  wall  of  the  castle  by  their  victori- 
ous cannon.  The  sight  of  its  gaping  heaps  of  rubbish, 
and  disjointed  masses  of  building,  up  which  slowly 
winded  a  narrow  and  steep  path,  such  as  is  made 
amongst  ancient  ruins  by  the  rare  passage  of  those 
who  occasionally  visit  them,  was  calculated,  when  con- 
trasted with  the  gray  and  solid  massiveness  of  the  towers 
and  curtains  which  yet  stood  uninjured,  to  remind  them 
of  their  victory  over  the  stronghold  of  their  enemies 

5* 


Sj4  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

and  how  they  had  bound  nobles  and  princes  with  fet- 
ters of  iron. 

But  feelings  more  suitable  to  the  purpose  of  their 
visit  to  Martindale  Castle,  were  awakened  *in  the 
bosoms  even  of  these  stern  sectaries,  when  the  Lady 
of  the  Castle,  still  in  the  very  prime  of  beauty  and  of 
womanhood,  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  breach  with  her 
principal  female  attendants,  to  receive  her  guests  with 
the  honour  and  courtesy  becoming  her  invitation.  She 
had  laid  aside  the  black  dress  which  hac  been  her  sole 
attire  for  several  years,  and  was  arrayed  with  a  splen- 
dour not  unbecoming  her  higjh  descent  and  quality. 
Jewels,  indeed,  she  had  none  ;  but  her  long  and  dark 
hair  was  surmounted  with  a  chaplet  made  of  oak-leaves, 
interspersed  with  lilies;  the  former  being  the  emblem 
of  the  King's  preservation  in  the  royal  Oak,  and  the 
latter,  of  his  happy  Restoration.  What  rendered  her 
presence  still  more  interesting  to  those  who  looked  on 
her,  was  the  presence  of  the  two  children  whom  she 
held  in  either  hand  ;  one  of  whom  was  well  known  to 
them  all  to  be  the  child  of  their  leader,  Major  Bridge* 
north,  who  had  been  restored  to  life  and  health  by  the 
almost  maternal  care  of  the  Lady  Peveril. 

If  even  the  inferior  persons  of  the  party  felt  the  heal- 
ing influence  of  her  presence,  thus  accompanied,  poor 
Bridgenorth  was  almost  overwhelmed  with  it.  The 
strictness  of  his  cast  and  manners  permitted  him  not  to 
sink  on  his  knee,  and  kiss  the  hand  which  held  his  little 
orphan  ;  but  the  deepness  of  his  obeisance — the  falter- 
ing tremor  of  his  voice — and  the  glistening  of  his  eye. 
showed  a  grateful  respect  for  the  lady  whom  he  ad- 
dressed— deeper  and  more  reverential  than  could  have 
been  expressed  even  by  Persian  prostration.  A  few 
courteous  and  mild  words,  expressive  of  the  pleasure 
she  found  in  once  more  seeing  her  neighbours  as  her 
friends — a  few  kind  inquiries,  addressed  to  the  princi- 
pal individuals  among  her  guests,  concerning  their  fa- 
milies and  connexions,  completed  her  triumph  over 
angry  thoughts  and  dangerous  recollections,  and  dis- 
posed men's  bosoms  to  sympathize  with  the  purposes  of 
the  meeting. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  55 

Even  Solsgrace  himself,  although  imagining  himself 
bound  by  his  office  and  duty  to  watch  over  and  coun- 
teract the  wiles  of  the  "  Amalekitish  woman,"  did  not 
escape  the  sympathetic  infection  ;  being  so  much  struck 
with  the  marks  of  peace  and  good  will  exhibited  by 
Lady  Peveril,  that  he  immediately  raised  the  psalm, 

"  O  what  a  happy  thing  it  is, 

And  joyful  for  to  see 
Brethren  to  dwell  together  in 

Friendship  and  unity." 

Accepting  this  salutation  as  a  mark  of  courtesy,  re-r 
paid,  Lady  Peveril  marshalled  in  person  this  party  of 
her  guests  to  the  apartment,  where  ample  good  cheer 
was  provided  for  them  ;  and  had  even  the  patience  to 
remain  while  master  Nehemiah  Solsgrace  pronounced 
a  benediction  of  portentous  length,  as  an  introduction 
to  the  banquet.  Her  presence  was  in  some  measure  a 
restraint  on  the  worthy  divine,  whose  prolusion  lasted 
the  longer,  and  was  the  more  intricate  and  embarrassed, 
that  he  felt  himself  debarred  from  rounding  it  off  by 
his  usual  alliterative  petition  for  deliverance  from  Po- 
pery, Prelacy,  and  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  which  had 
become  so  habitual  to  him,  that  after  various  attempts 
to  conclude  with  some  other  form  of  words,  he  found 
himself  at  last  obliged  to  pronounce  the  first  words  of 
his  usual  formula  aloud,  and  mutter  the  rest  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  be  intelligible  even  by  those  who 
stood  nearest  to  him. 

The  minister's  silence  was  followed  by  all  the  various 
sounds  which  announce  the  onset  of  a  hungry  company 
on  a  well-furnished  table ;  and  at  the  same  time  gave 
the  lady  an  opportunity  to  leave  the  apartment,  and  look 
to  the  accommodation  of  her  other  company.  She  felt, 
indeed,  that  it  was  high  time  to  do  so  ;  and  that  the 
royalist  guests  might  be  disposed  to  misapprehend,  or 
even  to  resent,  the  prior  attentions  which  she  had 
thought  it  prudent  to  offer  to  the  Puritans. 

These  apprehensions  were  not  altogether  ill-founded. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  steward  had  displayed  the  royal 
standard,  with  its  proud  motto  of  Tandem  Triumphans, 


56  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

on  one  of  the  great  towers  which  flanked  the  main  en- 
trance of  the  Castle  ;  while,  from  the  other,  floated  the 
banner  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  under  which  many  of 
those  who  now  approached  had  fought  during  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  civil  war.  It  was  in  vain  he  repeated 
his  clamorous — Welcome,  noble  cavaliers !  welcome, 
generous  gentlemen !  There  was  a  slight  murmur 
amongst  them,  that  their  welcome  ought  to  have  come 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Colonel's  lady — not  from  that  of 
a  menial.  Sir  Jasper  Cranbourne,  who  had  sense  as 
well  as  spirit  and  courage,  and  who  was  aware  of  his 
fair  cousin's  motives,  having  been  indeed  consulted  by 
her  upon  all  the  arrangements  which  she  had  adopted, 
saw  matters  were  in  such  a  state  that  no  time  ought  to 
be  lost  in  conducting  the  guests  to  the  banqueting  apart- 
ment, where  a  fortunate  diversion  from  all  these  topics 
of  rising  discontent  might  be  made,  at  the  expense  of 
the  good  cheer  of  all  sorts,  which  the  lady's  care  had  so 
liberally  provided. 

The  stratagem  of  the  old  soldier  succeeded  in  its  ut- 
most extent.  He  assumed  the  great  oaken  chair  usually 
occupied  by  the  steward  at  his  audits ;  and  Dr.  Dum- 
merar  having  pronounced  a  brief  Latin  benediction, 
(which  was  not  the  less  esteemed  by  the  hearers  that 
none  of  them  understood  it,)  Sir  Jasper  exhorted  the 
company  to  whet  their  appetites  to  the  dinner  by  a 
brimming  cup  to  his  Majesty's  health,  filled  as  high  and 
as  deep  as  their  goblets  would  permit.  In  a  moment 
all  was  bustle,  with  the  clang  of  winecups  and  of  fla- 
gons. In  another  moment  the  guests  were  on  their  feet, 
like  so  many  statues,  all  hushed  as  death,  but  with  eyes 
glancing  with  expectation,  and  hands  outstretched, 
which  displayed  their  loyal  brimmers.  The  voice  of 
Sir  Jasper,  clear,,  sonorous,  and  emphatic,  as  the  sound 
of  his  war-trumpet,  announced  the  health  of  the  resto- 
red Monarch,  hastily  echoed  back  by  the  assemblage, 
impatient  to  render  it  due  homage.  Another  brief 
pause  was  filled  by  the  draining  of  their  cups,  and  the 
mustering  breath  to  join  in  a  shout  so  loud,  that  not  on- 
ly the  rafters  of  the  old  hall  trembled  while  they  echoed 
it  back,  but  the  garlands  of  oaken  boughs  and  flower* 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  57 

with  which  they  were  decorated,  waved  wildly,  and  rus- 
tled as  if  agitated  by  a  sudden  whirlwind.  This  rite 
observed,  the  company  proceeded  to  assail  the  good 
cheer  with  which  the  table  groaned,  animated  as  they 
were  to  the  attack  both  by  mirth  and  melody,  for  they 
were  attended  by  all  the  minstrels  of  the  district,  who, 
like  the  Episcopal  clergy,  had  been  put  to  silence  du- 
ring the  reign  of  the  self-entitled  saints  of  the  Common- 
wealth. The  social  occupation  of  good  eating  and 
drinking,  the  exchange  of  pledges  betwixt  old  neigh- 
bours who  had  been  fellow-soldiers  in  the  moment  of  re- 
sistance— fellow-sufferers  in  the  time  of  depression  and 
subjugation,  andwrere  now  partners  in  the  same  general 
subject  of  congratulation,  soon  wiped  from  their  me- 
mory the  trifling  cause  of  complaint,  which  in  the  minds 
of  some  had  darkened  the  festivity  of  the  day;  so  that 
when  the  Lady  Peveril  walked  into  the  hall,  accompa- 
nied as  before  with  the  children  and  her  female  attend- 
ants, she  was  welcomed  with  the  acclamations  due  to 
the  mistress  of  the  banquet  and  of  the  Castle — the 
dame  of  the  noble  Knight,  who  had  led  most  of  them  to 
battle  with  an  undaunted  and  persevering  valour,  which 
was  worthy  of  better  saccess. 

Her  address  to  them  was  brief  and  matronly,  yet  spo- 
ken with  so  much  feeling  as  found  its  way  to  every  bo- 
som. She  apologized  for  the  lateness  of  her  personal 
welcome,  by  reminding  them  that  there  were  then  pre- 
sent in  Martindale  Castle  that  day,  persons  whom  re- 
cent happy  events  had  converted  from  enemies  into 
friends,  but  on  whom  the  latter  character  was  so  recent- 
ly imposed,  that  she  dared  not  neglect  with  them  any 
point  of  ceremonial.  But  those  whom  she  now  ad- 
dressed, were  the  best,  the  dearest,  the  most  faithful 
friends  of  her  husband's  house,  to  whom  and  to  their 
valour  Peveril  had  not  only  owed  those  successes  which 
had  given  them  and  him  fame  during  the  lately  unhappy 
times,  but  to  whose  courage  she  in  particular  had  owed 
the  preservation  of  their  leader's  life,  even  when  it 
could  not  avert  defeat.  A  word  or  two  of  heartfelt 
congratulation  on  the  happy  restoration  of  the  royal 
line  and  authority,  completed  all  which  she  had  bold* 


58  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

ness  to  add,  and  bowing  gracefully  round  her,  she  lifted 
a  cup  to  her  lips  as  if  to  welcome  her  guests. 

There  still  remained,  and  especially  among  the  old 
Cavaliers  of  the  period,  some  glimmering  of  that  spirit 
which  inspired  Froissart,  when  he  declares  that  a 
Knight  hath  double  courage  at  need,  when  animated 
by  the  looks  and  words  of  a  beautiful  and  virtuous  wo- 
man. It  was  not  until  the  reign  which  was  commen- 
cing at  the  moment  we  are  treating  of,  that  the  un- 
bounded license  of  the  age  introducing  a  general  course 
of  profligacy,  degraded  the  female  sex  into  mere  ser- 
vants of  pleasure,  and,  in  so  doing,  deprived  society  of 
that  noble  tone  of  feeling  towards  the  sex,  which,  con- 
sidered as  a  spur  to  "  raise  the  clear  spirit,"  is  supe- 
rior to  every  other  impulse  save  those  of  religion  and 
of  patriotism.  The  beams  of  the  ancient  half  of  Mar- 
tindale  Castle  instantly  rung  with  a  shout  louder  and 
shriller  than  that  at  which  they  had  so  lately  trembled, 
and  the  names  of  the  Knight  of  the  Peak  and  his  lady 
were  proclaimed  amid  waving  of  caps  and  hats,  and 
universal  wishes  for  their  health  and  happiness. 

Under  these  auspices  the  Lady  Peveril  glided  from 
the  hall,  and  left  free  space  -for  the  revelry  of  the 
evening. 

That  of  the  Cavaliers  may  be  easily  conceived,  since 
it  had  the  usual  accompaniments  of  singing,  jesting, 
quaffing  of  healths,  and  playing  of  tunes,  which  have 
in  almost  every  age  and  quarter  of  the  world  been  the 
accompaniments  of  festive  cheer.  The  enjoyments  of 
the  Puritans  were  of  a  different  and  less  noisy  charac- 
ter. They  neither  sung,  jested,  heard  music,  nor  drunk 
healths  ;  and  yet  they  seemed  not  the  less,  in  their  own 
phrase,  to  enjoy  the  creature  comforts  which  the  frailty 
of  humanity  rendered  grateful  to  their  outward  man. 
Old  Whitaker  even  protested,  that  though  much  the 
smaller  party  in  point  of  numbers,  they  discussed  near- 
ly as  much  sack  and  claret  as  his  own  more  jovial  asso- 
ciates. But  those  who  considered  the  steward's  pre- 
judices, were  inclined  to  think,  that  in  order  to  pro- 
duce such  a  result,  he  must  have  thrown  in  his  own 
by-drinkings — no  inconsiderable  item — into  the  sum 
total  of  the  Presbyterian  potations. 


PEVERJL   OP    THE    PEAK.  59 

Without  adopting  such  a  partial  and  scandalous  re- 
port, we  shall  only  say,  that  on  this  occasion,  as  on  most 
others,  the  rareness  of  indulgence  promoted  the  sense 
of  enjoyment,  and  that  those  who  made  abstinence,  or 
at  least  moderation,  a  point  of  religious  principle,  en- 
joyed their  social  meeting  the  better  that  such  opportu- 
nities rarely  presented  themselves.     If  they  did  not  ac- 
tually drink  each  other's  healths,  they  at  last  showed, 
by  looking  and  nodding  to  each  other  as  they  raised  their 
glasses,  that  they  all  were  sharing  the  same  festive  gra- 
tification of  the  appetite,  and  felt  it  enhanced,  because 
it  was  at  the  same  time  enjoyed  by  their  friends  and 
neighbours.     Religion,  as  it  was  the  principal  topic  of 
their  thoughts,  became  also  the  chief  subject  of  their 
conversation,  and  as  they  sate  together  in  small  sepa- 
rate knots,  they  discussed  doctrinal  and  metaphysical 
points  of  belief,  balanced  the  merits  of  various  preach- 
ers, compared  the  creeds  of  contending  sects,  and  forti- 
fied by  scriptural  quotations  those  which  they  favoured. 
Some  contests  arose   in  the  course  of  these  debates, 
which  might  have  proceeded  farther  than  was  seemly, 
but  for  the  cautious  interference  of  Major  Bridgenorth. 
He  suppressed,  also,  in  the  very  bud,  a  dispute  betwixt 
Gaffer  Hodgeson  of  Charnelycot  and  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Solsgrace,  upon  the  tender  subject  of  lay-preaching  and 
lay-ministering;  nor  did  he  think  it  altogether  prudent 
or  decent  to  indulge  the  wishes  of  some  of  the  warmer 
enthusiasts  of  the  party,  who  felt  disposed  to  make  the 
rest  partakers  of  their  gifts  in  extemporaneous  prayer 
and  exposition.     These  were  absurdities  that  belonged 
to  the  time,  which,  however,  the  Major  had  sense  enough 
to  perceive  were  unfitted,  whether  the  offspring  of  hy- 
pocrisy or  enthusiasm,  for  the  present  time  and  place. 

The  Major  was  also  instrumental  in  breaking  up  the 
party  at  an  early  and  decorous  hour,  so  that  they  left 
the  Castle  long  before  their  rivals,  the  Cavaliers,  had 
reached  the  spring-tide  of  their  merriment ;  an  arrange- 
ment which  afforded  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  the  la- 
dy, who  dreaded  the  consequences  which  might  not 
improbably  have  taken  place,  had  both  partiesmet  at 
the  same  period  and  point  of  retreat. 


CO  PEVERIL   OF    THE    PEAK. 

It  was  near  midnight  ere  the  greater  part  of  the  Ca- 
valiers, meaning  such  as  were  able  to  effect  their  de- 
parture without  assistance,  withdrew  to  the  village  of 
Martindale-Moultrassie,  with*  the  benefit  of  the  broad 
moon,  to  prevent  the  chance  of  accidents.  Their 
shouts,  and  the  burthen  of  their  roaring  chorus  of — 

"  The  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again  !" 

was  heard  with  no  small  pleasure  by  the  lady,  heartily 
glad  that  the  riot  of  the  day  was  over  without  the  occur- 
rence of  any  upleasant  accident.  The  rejoicing  was 
not,  however,  entirely  ended ;  for  the  elevated  Cava- 
liers, finding  some  of  the  villagers  still  on  foot  around  a 
bonfire  in  the  street,  struck  merrily  in  with  them — sent 
to  Roger  Raine  of  the  Peveril  Arms,  the  loyal  publican 
whom  we  have  already  mentioned,  for  two  tubs  of 
merry  stingo,  (as  it  was  termed.)  and  lent  their  own 
powerful  assistance  in  dusting  it  off  to  the  health  of  the 
King  and  the  loyal  General  Moncke.  Their  shouts  for 
a  long  time  disturbed,  and  even  alarmed  the  village, 
but  no  enthusiasm  is  able  to  withstand  for  ever  the  na- 
tural consequences  of  late  hours,  and  potations  pottle- 
deep.  The  tumult  of  the  exulting  royalists  at  last  sunk 
into  silence,  and  the  moon  and  the  owl  were  left  in  un- 
disturbed sovereignty  over  the  old  tower  of  the  village 
church,  which,  rising  white  above  a  circle  of  knotty  oaks, 
was  tenanted  by  the  bird,  and  silvered  by  the  planet, 


CHAPTER  V. 

Twas  when  they  raised,  'mid  sap  and  siege. 
The  banners  of  their  rightful  liege, 

At  their  she-captain's  call, 
Who,  miracle  of  woman-kind, 
Lent  metal  to  the  meanest  hind 

That  mann'd  her  castle  wall. 

William  S.  Boxe. 

On  the  morning  succeeding  the  feast,  the  Lady  Pe- 
veril, fatigued  with  the  exertions  and  the  apprehensions 
of  the  former  day,  kept  her  apartment  for  two  or  three 


PKVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  6: 

hours  later  than  her  own  active  habits  and  the  matuti 
nal  custom  of  the  time  rendered  usual.  Meanwhile, 
mistress  Ellesmere,  a  person  of  great  trust  in  the  fami- 
ly, and  who  assumed  much  authority  in  her  mistress's 
absence,  laid  her  orders  upon  Deborah,  the  governante, 
immediately  to  carry  the  children  to  their  airing  in  the 
park,  and  not  to  let  any  one  enter  the  gilded  chamber, 
which  was  usually  their  sporting-place.  Deborah,  who 
often  rebelled,  and  sometimes  successfully,  against  the 
deputed  authority  of  Ellesmere,  privatel}  resolved  that 
it  was  about  to  rain,  and  that  the  gilded  chamber  was  a 
more  suitable  place  for  the  children's  exercise  than  the 
wet  grass  of  the  park  on  a  raw  morning. 

But  a  woman's  brain  is  sometimes  as  inconstant  as  a 
popular  assembly  ;  and  presently  after  she  bad  voted 
he  morning  *as  like  to  be  rainy,  and  that  the  gilded 
chamber  was  the  fittest  play -room  for  the  children,  Mis- 
tress Deborah  came  to  the  somewhat  inconsistent  reso- 
lution, that  the  park  was  the  fittest  place  for  her  own 
morning  walk.  It  is  certain,  that  during  the  unrestrain- 
ed joviality  of  the  preceding  evening,  she  had  danced 
till  midnight  with  Launce  Outram,  the  park-keeper ; 
but  how  far  the  seeing  him  just  pass  the  window  in  his 
woodland  'rim,  with  a  feather  in  his  hat,  and  a  cross 
bow  under  his  arm,  influenced  the  discrepancy  of  the 
opinions  Mistress  Deborah  f  rmed  concerning  the  wea- 
ther, we  are  far  from  presuming  a  guess.  It  is  enough 
for  us,  that,  so  soon  as  Mistress  Ellesmere's  back  was 
turned,  Mistress  Deborah  turned  the  children  into  the 
gilded  chamber,  not  without  a  strict  charge  (for  we 
must  do  her  justice)  to  master  Julian  to  take  care  of  his 
little  wife,  mistress  Alice;  and  then,  having  taken  so  sa- 
tisfactory a  precaution,  she  herself  glided  into  the  park 
by  the  glass-door  of  the  still-room,  which  was  nearly- 
opposite  to  the  great  breach. 

The  gilded  chamber  in  which  the  children  were,  by 
this  arrangement,  left  to  amuse  themselves,  without  bet* 
ter  guardianship  than  what  Julian's  manhood  afforded, 
was  a  large  apartment,  hung  with  stamped  Spanish  lea- 
ther, curiously  gilded,  representing,  in  a  manner  now 
obsolete,  but  far  from  unpleasing,  a  series  of  tilts  acd 

vol.  i.  6 


62  PEVEUIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

combats  betwixt  the  Saracens  of  Grenada,  and  the  Spa- 
niards under  (he  command  of  King  Ferdinand  and 
Qeeen  Isabella,  during  that  memorable  siege,  which 
was  terminated  by  the  overthrow  of  the  last  fragments 
of  the  Moorish  empire  in  Spain. 

The  little  Julian  was  careering  about  the  room  or 
the  amusement  of  his  infant  friend,  as  well  as  his  own. 
mimicking  with  a  reed  the  menacing  attitude  of  the 
Abencerrages  and  Zegris  engaged  in  the  eastern  sport 
of  hurling  the  jerid,  or  javelin  ;  and  at  fimes  sitting 
down  beside  her,  and  caressing  her  into  silence  and  good 
humour,  when  the  petulant  or  timid  child  chose  to 
become  tired  of  remaining  an  inactive  spectator  of  his 
boisterous  sport ;  when,  on  a  sudden,  he  observed  one 
of  *he  pannelled  compartments  of  the  leather  hangings 
slide  apart,  so  as  to  show  a  fair  band,  with  its  fingers 
resting  upon  its  edge,  prepared,  it  would  seem,  to  push 
it  still  farther  back.  Julian  was  much  surprised  ;  and 
somewhat  frightened  at  what  he  witnessed,  for  the  tales 
of  the  nursery  had  strongly  impressed  on  his  mind  the 
terrors  of  the  invisible  world.  Yet,  naturally  bold  and 
high-spirited,  the  little  champion  placed  himself  beside 
his  defenceless  sister,  continuing  to  brandish  his  weapon 
in  her  defence,  as  boldly  as  if  he  had  himself  been  an 
Abencerrage  of  Grenada. 

The  pannel,  on  which  his  eye  was  fixed,  gradually 
continued  to  slide  back,  and  display  more  and  more  of 
the  form  to  which  the  hand  appertained,  until,  in  the 
dark  aperture  which  was  disclosed,  the  children  saw  the 
figure  of  a  lady  in  a  mourning  dress,  past  the  meridian  of 
life,  but  whose  countenance  still  retained  traces  of  great 
beauty,  although  the  predominant  character  both  of  her 
features  and  person  was  an  air  of  almost  royal  dignity. 
After  pausing  a  moment  on  the  threshold  of  the  portal 
which  she  had  thus  unexpectedly  disclosed,  and  looking 
with  some  surprise  at  the  children,  whom  she  had  not 
probably  observed  while  engaged  with  the  management 
of  the  pannel,  the  stranger  stepped  into  the  apartment, 
and  the  pannel,  upon  a  touch  of  a  spring,  closed  behind 
her  so  suddenly,  that  Julian  almost  doubled  il  had  ever 
been  open,  and  began  to  apprehend  that  the  whole  ap 
parition  had  been  a  delusion. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  63 

The  stately  lady,  however,  advanced  to  him,  and 
said,  "  Are  not  you  the  little  Peveril  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy,  reddening,  not  altogether  with- 
out a  juvenile  feeling  of  that  rule  of  chivalry  which  for- 
bade any  one  to  disown  his  name,  whatever  danger 
might  be  annexed  to  the  avowal  of  it. 

"  Then,"  said  the  stately  stranger,  u  go  to  your  mo- 
ther's room,  and  tell  her  to  come  instantly  to  speak  with 
me." 

"  I  wo'not,"  said  the  little  Julian. 

"How:"  said  the  lady. — "  so  young  and  so  disobedi- 
ent ? — but  you  do  but  follow  the  fashion  of  the  time. 
Why  will  yuu  not  go,  my  pretty  boy,  when  I  ask  it  of 
you  as  a  favour  r" 

"  I  would  go,  madam,"  said  the  boy,  "  but" — and  he 
stopped  short,  still  drawing  back  as  the  lady  advanced 
on  him,  but  still  holding  by  the  hand  Alice  Bridgenorth, 
who,  too  young  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  dialogue, 
clung,  trembling,  to  her  companion. 

The  stranger  saw  his  embarrassment,  smiled,  and  re- 
mained standing  fast,  while  she  asked  the  child  once 
more, "  What  are  you  afraid  of,  my  brave  boy — and  why 
should  you  not  go  to  your  mother  on  my  errand  ?" 

"Because,"  answered  Julian,  firmly,  "if  I  go,  little 
Alice  must  stay  alone  with  you." 

"  You  are  a  gallant  fellow,"  said  the  lady,  "and  will 
not  disgrace  your  blood,  which  never  left  the  weak  with- 
out protection." 

The  boy  understood  her  not,  and  still  gazed  with  anx- 
ious apprehension,  first  on  her  who  addressed  him,  and 
then  upon  his  little  companion,  whose  eyes,  with  the 
vacant  glance  of  infancy,  wandered  from  the  figure  ot 
the  lady  to  that  of  her  companion  and  protector,  and, 
at  length,  infected  by  a  portion  of  the  fear  which  the 
latter's  magnanimous  eiforts  could  not  entirely  conceal, 
flew  into  Julian's  arms,  and  clinging  to  him,  greatly 
augmented  his  alarm,  and,  by  screaming  aloud,  render- 
ed it  very  difficult  for  him  to'avoid  the  sympathetic  fear 
which  impelled  him  to  do  the  same. 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  and  bearing  of 
this  unexpected  inmate,  which  mightjustify  awe  at  least. 


S4  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

if  not  fear,  when  joined  to  the  unexpected  and  myste 
rious  mode  in  which  she  had  made  her  appearance. 
Her  dress  was  not  remarkable,  being  the  hood  and 
female  riding  attire  of  the  time,  such  as  was  worn  by 
the  inferior  class  of  gentlewomen  ;  but  her  black  haii 
was  very  long,  and  several  locks  having  escaped  from 
under  her  hood,  hung  down  dishevelled  on  her  neck 
and  shoulders.  Her  eves  were  deep  black,  keen,  and 
piercing,  and  her  features  had  something  of  a  foreign 
expression.  When  she  spoke,  her  language  was  mark- 
ed by  a  slight  foreign  accent,  although,  in  construction, 
it  was  pure  English.  Her  slightest  tone  and  gesture 
had  the  air  of  one  accustomed  to  command  and  to  be 
obeyed  ;  the  recollection  of  which  probably  suggested 
to  Julian  the  apology  he  afterward  made  for  being 
frightened,  that  he  took  the  stranger  for  an  "  enchanted 
queen.'5 

While  the  stranger  lady  and  the  children  thus  con- 
fronted each  other,  two  persons  entered  almost  at  the 
same  instant,  but  from  different  doors,  whose  haste 
showed  that  they  had  been  alarmed  by  the  cries  of  the 
latter. 

The  first  was  Major  Bridgenorth,  whose  ears  had 
been  alarmed  with  the  cries  of  his  child  as  he  entered 
the  hall,  which  corresponded  with  what  was  called  the 
gilded  chamber.  His  intention  had  been  to  remain  in 
the  more  public  apartment,  until-  the  Lady  Peveril 
should  make  her  appearance,  with  the  good-natured 
purpose  of  assuring  her  that  the  preceding  day  of  tu- 
mult had  passed  in  every  respect  agreeably  to  his 
friends,  and  without  any  of  those  alarming  consequen- 
ts which  might  have  been  apprehended  from  a  col- 
lision betwixt  the  parties.  But  when  it  is  considered 
how  severely  he  had  been  agitated  by  apprehensions  for 
his  child's  safety  and  health,  too  well  justified  by  the 
fate  of  those  who  had  preceded  her,  it  will  not  be  thought 
surprising  that  the  infantine  screams  of  Alice  induced 
him  to  break  through  the  barriers  of  form,  and  intrude 
farther  into  the  interior  of  the  house  than  a  sense  ot 
strict  propriety  might  have  warranted. 

He   burst  into  the  gilded  chamber,  therefore,  by  a 
;jde-door  and  narrow  passage,  which  communicated  be* 


PEVERIL    OF    THE.  PEAK.  60 

twixl  that  apartment  and  the  hall,  and  snatching  the 
child  up  in  his  arms,  endeavoured,  by  a  thousand  ca- 
resses, to  stifle  the  screams  which  burst  yet  more  thick- 
ly from  the  little  girl,  on  beholding  herself  in  the  arms 
of  one  to  whose  voice  and  manner  she  was,  but  for  one 
brief  interview,  an  entire  stranger. 

Of  course,  Alice's  shrieks  were  redoubled,  and  se- 
conded by  those  of  Julian  Peveril,  who,  on  the  appear- 
ance of  this  second  intruder,  was  frightened  into  resig- 
nation of  every  more  manly  idea  of  rescue  than  that 
which  consisted  in  invoking  assistance  at  the  very  top 
of  his  lungs. 

Alarmed  by  this  noise,  which,  in  half  a  minute  be- 
came very  clamorous.  Lady  Peveril,  with  whose  apart- 
ment the  gilded  chamber  was  connected  by  a  private 
door  of  communication,  opening  into  her  wardrobe,  en- 
tered on  the  scene.  The  instant  she  appeared,  the  lit- 
tle Alice,  extricating  herself  from  the  grasp  of  her  fa- 
ther, ran  towards  her  protectress,  and  when  she  had 
once^taken  hold  of  her  skirts,  not  only  became  silent, 
but  turned  her  large  blue  eyes,  in  which  the  tears  were 
still  glistening,  with  a  look  of  wonder  rather  than  alarm, 
towards  the  strange  lady.  Julian  manfully  recovered 
his  reed,  a  weapon  which  he  had  never  parted  with  du- 
ring the  whole  alarm,  and  stood  prepared  to  assist  his 
mother  if  there  should  be  danger  in  the  encounter  be- 
twixt her  and  the  stranger. 

In  fact,  it  might  have  puzzled  an  older  person  to  ac- 
count for  the  sudden  and  confined  pause  which  the 
Lady  Peveril  made,  as  she  gazed  on  her  unexpected 
guest,  as  if  dubious  whether  she  did  or  did  not  recog- 
nize, in  her  still  beautiful,  though  wasted  and  emaciated 
features,  a  countenance  which  she  had  known  well  un- 
der far  different  circumstances. 

The  stranger  seemed  to  understand  her  cause  of  he- 
sitation, for  she  said  in  that  heart- thrilling  voice  which 
was  peculiarly  her  own, 

';  Time  and  misfortune  have  changed  me  much,  Mar- 
garet— that  every  mirror  tells  me— vet,  metbinks,  Mar- 
garet Stanley  might  still  have  known  Charlotte  de  la 
Tremouille." 

6* 


PEVER1L   OF    THE    PEAK. 

The  Lady  Peveril  was  little  in  the  custom  of  giving 
way  to  sudden  emotion,  but  in  the  present  case  she 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  in  a  rapture  of  mingled  joy 
and  grief,  and  half  embracing  those  of  the  stranger, 
exclaimed,  in  broken  language — 

"  My  kind,  my  noble  benefactress — the  princely 
Countess  of  Derby — the  royal  Queen  in  Man — could  1 
doubt  your  voice,  your  features  for  a  moment — O,  for- 
give, forgive  me !" 

The  Countess  raised  the  suppliant  kinswoman  of  her 
husband's  house,  with  all  the  grace  of  one  accustomed 
from  early  birth  to  receive  homage  and  to  grant  pro- 
tection. She  kissed  the  Lady  Peveril's  forehead,  and 
passed  her  hand  in  a  caressing  manner  over  her  face  as 
she  said — 

ii  You  too  are  changed,  my  fair  cousin,  but  it  is  a 
change  becomes  you,  from  a  pretty  and  timid  maiden 
to  a  sage  and  comely  matron.  But  my  own  memory, 
which  J  once  held  a  good  one,  has  failed  me  strangely, 
if  this  gentleman  be  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril." 

i;  A  kind  and  good  neighbour  only,  madam,"  said 
Lady  Peveril ;  "  Sir  Geoffrey  is  at  Court." 

"  I  understood  so  much,"  said  the  Countess  of  Der- 
by, "  when  T  arrived  here  last  night." 

"  How,  madam  !"  said  Lady  Peveril — "  Did  you  ar- 
rive at  Martindale  Castle — at  the  house  of  Margaret 
Stanley,  where  you  have  such  right  to  command,  and 
did  not  announce  your  presence  to  her  ?" 

"  O,  I  know  you  are  a  dutiful  subject,  Margaret," 
answered  the  Countess,  "  though  it  be  in  these  days  a 
rare  character — but  it  was  our  pleasure,"  she  added 
with  a  smile,  ';  to  travel  incognito — and,  finding  you 
engaged  in  general  hospitality,  we  desired  not  to  dis- 
turb you  with  our  royal  presence." 

"  But  how  and  where  were  you  lodged,  madam  ?-" 
said  Lady  Peveril ;  "  or  why  should  you  have  kept  se- 
cret a  visit  which  would,  if  made,  have  augmented  ten- 
fold the  happiness  of  every  true  heart  that  rejoiced 
here  yesterday !" 

"  My  lodging  was  well  cared  for  by  Ellesmere— your 
Fdlesmere  now.  as  she  was  formerlv  mine — she  has  act- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  67 

ed  as  quarter-master  ere  now  you  know,  and  on  a 
broader  scale ;  you  must  excuse  her — she  had  my  po* 
sitive  order  to  lodge  me  in  the  most  secret  part  of  your 
Castle — (here  she  pointed  to  the  sliding  pannel) — she 
obeyed  orders  in  that,  and  I  suppose  also  in  sending 
you  now  hither." 

"  Indeed  I  have  not  yet  seen  her,*'  said  the  lady. 
"  and  therefore  was  totally  ignorant  of  a  visit  so  joyful, 
so  surprising." 

t;  And  I,"  said  the  Countess,  "  was  equally  surprised 
to  find  none  but  these  beautiful  children  in  the  apart- 
ment where  1  thought  I  heard  you  moving.  Our  Elles- 
mere  has  become  silly — your  good  nature  has  spoiled 
her — she  has  forgotten  the  discipline  she  has  learned 
under  me." 

"  I  saw  her  run  through  the  wood,"  said  the  Lady 
Peveril,  after  a  moment's  recollection,  "  undoubtedly 
to  seek  the  person  who  ha3  charge  of  the  children,  in 
order  to  remove  them." 

u  Your  own  darlings,  I  doubt  not,"  said  the  Countess, 
looking  at  the  children.  i;  Margaret,  Providence  has 
blessed  you." 

"  That  is  my  son,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  pointing  to 
Julian,  who  stood  devouring  their  discourse  with  greedy 
ear  ;  the  little  giil  I  may  call  mine  too."  Major  Bridge- 
north,  who  had,  in  the  mean  time,  again  taken  up  his 
infant,  and  was  engaged  in  caressing  it,  set  it  down  as 
the  Countess  of  Derby  spoke,  sighed  deeply,  and 
walked  towards  the  oriel  window.  He  was  well  aware 
that  the  ordinary  rales  of  courtesy  would  have  render- 
ed it  proper  that  he  should  withdraw  entirely,  or  at 
least  offer  to  do  so  ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  of  ceremo- 
nious politeness,  and  he  had  a  particular  interest  in  the 
subjects  on  which  the  Countess's  discourse  was  likely 
to  turn,  which  induced  him  to  dispense  with  ceremony. 
The  ladies  seemed  indeed  scarce  to  notice  his  pre- 
sence. The  Countess  had  now  assumed  a  chair,  and 
motioned  to  the  Lady  Peveril  to  sit  upon  a  stool  which 
was  placed  by  her  side.  "  We  will  have  old  times 
once  more,  though  there  are  here  no  roaring  of  the  re- 
bel guns  to  drive  you  to  take^  refuge  at  my  side,  and 
almost  in  my  pocket." 


b8  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK- 

u  I  have  a  gun,  madam,"  said  little  Julian,  "  and  the 
park-keeper  is  to  teach  me  how  to  fire  it  next  year." 

"  I  will  list  you  for  my  soldier,  then,"  said  the  Coun- 
tess. 

"  Ladies  have  no  soldiers,"  said  the  boy,  looking 
wistfully  at  her. 

"  He  has  the  true  masculine  contempt  of  our  frail 
sex,  I  see,"  said  the  Countess  ;  "  it  is  born  with  the  in- 
solent varlets  of  mankind,  and  shows  itself  so  soon  as 
they  are  out  of  their  long  clothes.  Did  Ellesmerr 
never  tell  you  of  Latham-House  and  Charlotte  of  Der- 
by, my  little  master?" 

"  A  thousand-thousand  times,"  said  the  boy,  Colour- 
ing; "and  how  the  Queen  of  Man  defended  it  six- 
weeks  against  three  thousand  Roundheads,  under^Roguc 
Harrison,  the  butcher." 

"  It  was  your  mother  defended  Latham-House,"  said 
the  Countess,  "  not  I,  my  little  soldier — Hadst  thou 
been  there,  thou  hadst  been  the  best  captain  of  the 
three." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  madam,"  said  the  boy,  "  for  mam- 
ma would  not  touch  a  gun  for  all  the  universe." 

"  Not  I,  indeed,  Julian,"  said  his  mother;  "  there  1 
was  for  certain,  but  as  useless  a  part  of  the  garrison — *' 

"You  forget,"  said  the  Countess,  "you  nursed  our 
hospital,  and  made  lint  for  the  soldiers' wounds." 

"  But  did  not  papa  come  to  help  you  ?"  said  Julian. 

"Papa  came  at  last,"  said  the  Countess,  "and  so  did 
Prince  Rupert — but  not,  I  think,  till  they  were  both 
heartily  wished  for. — Do  you  remember  that  morning. 
Margaret,  when  the  round-headed  knaves,  that  kept  us 
pent  up  so  long,  retreated  without  bag  or  baggage,  at 
the  first  glance  of  the  Prince's  standards  appearing  on 
the  hill — and  how  you  took  every  high-crested  captain 
you  saw  for  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  that  had  been  your 
partner  three  months  before  at  the  Queen's  mask  ?  Nay, 
never  blush  for  the  thought  of  it — it  was  an  honest  af- 
fection— and  though  it  was  the  music  of  trumpets  that 
accompanied  you  both  to  the  old  chapel,  which  was 
almost  entirely  ruined  by  the  enemy's  bullets,;  and 
though  Prince  Rupert,  .when  he  gave  you  away  at  the 
altar,  was  clad  in  buifand  bandalier,  with  pistols  in  his 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  69 

belt,  yet  I  trust  these  warlike  signs  were  no  type  of  fu- 
ture discord." 

"  Heaven  has  been  kind  to  me,"  said  Lady  Peveril, 
%i  in  blessing  me  with  an  affectionate  husband." 

"  And  in  preserving  him  to  you,"  said  the  Countess, 
with  a  deep  sigh;  "  while  mine,  alas  !  sealed  with  his 
blood  his  devotion  to  his  king.  O  had  he  lived  to  sec 
this  day !" 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  that  he  was  not  permitted  !"  answered 
Lady  Peveril  ;  "  how  had  that  brave  and  noble  Earl 
rejoiced  in  the  unhoped-for  redemption  of  our  capti- 
vity !" 

The  Countess  looked  on  Lady  Peveril  with  an  air  of 
surprise. 

,;  Thou  hast  not  then  heard,  cousin,  how  it  stands 
with  our  house  ? — How  indeed  had  my  noble  lord  won- 
dered, had  he  been  told  that  the  very  monarch  for 
whom  he  laid  down  his  noble  life  on  the  scaffold  at 
Bolton  le  Moor,  should  make  it  his  first  act  of  restored 
monarchy  to  complete  the  destruction  of  our  property, 
already  well  nigh  ruined  in  the  royal  cause,  and  to  per- 
secute me  his  widow  !" 

"  You  astonish  me,  madam  !"  said  the  Lady  Peyeril  : 
"  it  cannot  be,  that  you — that  you,  the  wife  of  the  gal- 
lant, the  faithful,  the  murdered  Earl — you,  Countess  of 
Derby,  and  Queen  in  Man — you,  who  took  on  you  even 
the  character  of  a  soldier,  and  seemed  a  man  when  so 
many  men  proved  women — that  you  should  sustain  evil 
from  the  event  which  has  fulfilled — exceeded — the 
hopes  of  every  faithful  subject — it  cannot  be!" 

"  Thou  art  as  simple,  I  see,  in  this  world's  know- 
ledge as  ever,  my  fair  cousin,"  answered  the  Countess. 
"  This  Restoration,  which  has  given  others  security, 
has  placed  me  in  danger — this  change,  which  relieved 
other  royalists,  scarce  less  zealous,  I  presume  to  think, 
than  I — has  sent  me  here  a  fugitive,  and  in  conceal- 
ment, to  beg  shelter  and  assistance  from  you,  fair  cou- 
sin." 

"From  me,"  answered  the  Lady  Peveril — "from 
me,  whose  youth  your  kindness  sheltered — from  the 
wife  of  Peveril,  your  gallant  Lord's  companion  inarms 
— you  have  a  right  to  command  every  thing  5  but  alas ! 


ti)  PEVERIL    f>y    THE    PEAK. 

that  you  should  need  such  assistance  as  I  can  render- 
forgive  me,  but  it  seems  like  some  ill-omened  vision  oi 
the  night — I  listen  to  your  words  as  if  I  hoped  to  be  re- 
lieved from  their  painful  import  by  awakening." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  dream — a  vision,*'  said  the  Countess 
of  Derby;  "  but  it  needs  no  seer  to  read  it — the  expla- 
nation hath  been  long  since  given — Put  not  your  faith 
m  princes.  I  can  soon  remove  your  surprise. — This 
gentleman,  your  friend,  is,  doubtless,  honest  .?" 

The  Lady  Peveril  well  knew  that  the  Cavaliers,  like 
other  factions,  usurped  to  themselves  the  exclusive  de- 
nomination of  the  honest  party,  and  she  felt  some  diffi- 
culty in  explaining  that  her  visiter  was  not  honest  in 
that  sense  of  the  word. 

"  Had  we  not  better  retire,  madam,"  she  said  to  the 
Countess,  rising,  as  if  in  order  to  attend  her.  But  the 
Countess  retained  her  seat. 

"It  was  but  a  question  of  habit,"  she  said  :  "the 
gentleman's  principles  are  nothing  to  me,  for  what  1 
have  to  tell  you  is  widely  blazed,  and  I  care  not  who 
hears  my  share  of  it.  You  remember — you  must  have 
heard,  for  I  think  Margaret  Stanley  would  not  be  indif- 
ferent to  my  fate — that  after  my  husband's  murther  at 
Bolton,  I  took  up  the  standard  which  he  never  dropped 
until  his  death,  and  displayed  it  with  my  own  hand  in 
our  Sovereignty  of  Man." 

"  I  did  indeed  hear  so,  madam,"  said  the  Lady  Pe- 
veril;  "and  that  you  had  bidden  a  bold  defiance  to 
the  rebel  government,  even  after  all  other  parts  of  Bri- 
tain had  submitted  to  them.  My  husband,  Sir  Geof- 
frey, designed  at  one  time  to  have  gone  to  your  assist- 
ance with  some  few  followers  :  but  we  learned  that  the 
island  was  rendered  to  the  Parliament  party  ;  and  that 
you,  dearest  lady,  were  thrown  into  prison." 

"  But  you  heard  not  "  said  the  Countess,  "  how  that 
disaster  befell  me. — Margaret,  1  would  have  held  out 
that  island  against  the  knaves  as  long  as  the  sea  con- 
tinued to  flow  around  it.  Till  the  shoals  which  sur- 
round it  had  become  safe  anchorage — till  its  precipices 
had  melted  with  the  sunshine — till  of  all  its  strong 
abodes  and  castles  not  one  stone  remained  upon  ano- 
ther,  would  I  have   defended  against  these  villaneous 


fcEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  7J 

hypocritical  rebels,  my  dear  husband's  hereditary  do- 
minion. The  little  kingdom  of  Man  should  have  been 
yielded  only  when  not  an  arm  was  left  to  wield  a  sword, 
not  a  finger  to  draw  a  trigger  in  its  defence.  But 
treachery  did  what  force  could  never  have  done.  When 
we  had  foiled  various  attempts  upon  the  island  by  open 
focce — treason  accomplished  what  Blake  and  Lawson, 
with  their  floating  castles,  had  found  an  enterprise  too 
hazardous — a  base  rebel,  whom  we  had  nursed  in  our 
own  bosoms,  betrayed  us  to  the  enemy.  This  wretch 
was  named  Christian— — " 

Major  Bridgenorth  started  and  turned  towards  the 
speaker,  but  instantly  seemed  to  recollect  himself,  and 
ngain  averted  his  face.  The  Countess  proceeded, 
without  noticing  the  interruption,  which,  however, 
rather  surprised  Lady  Peveril,  who  was  acquainted 
wffh  her  neighbour's  general  habits  of  indifference  and 
apathy,  and  therefore  the  more  surprised  at  his  testify- 
ing such  sudden  symptoms  of  interest.  She  would 
once  again  have  moved  the  Countess  to  retire  to  ano- 
ther apartment,  but  Lady  Derby  proceeded  with  too 
much  vehemence  to  endure  interruption. 

'•  This  Christian."  she  said,  "  had  eaten  of  my  lord 
his  sovereign's  bread,  and  drank  of  his  cup.  even  from 
childhood — for  his  fathers  had  been  faithful  servants  to 
the  house  of  Man  and  Derby.  He  himself  had  fought 
bravely  by  my  husband's  side,  and  enjoyed  all  his  con- 
fidence;  and  when  he  was  martyred  by  the  rebels,  he 
recommended  to  me,  among  other  instructions  commu- 
nicated in  the  last  message  I  received  from  him,  to 
continue  my  confidence  in  Christian's  fidelity.  J 
obeyed,  although  1  never  loved  the  man*  lie  was  cold 
and  phlegmatic,  and  utterly  devoid  of  that  sacred  fire 
which  is  the  incentive  to  noble  deeds,  suspected  tdfej 
of  leaning  to  the  cold  metaphysics  of  Calvinistic  suH 
tlety.  But  he  was  brave,  wise,  and  experienced,  and. 
as  the  event  proved,  possessed  but  too  much  interest 
with  the  islanders.  When  these  rude  people  saw  them- 
selves without  hope  of  relief,  and  pressed  by  a  block- 
ade, which  brought  want  and  disease  into  their  island, 
they  began  to  fall  off  from  the  faith  which  they  had 
hitherto  shown.'* 


<2  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

"  What !"  said  the  Lady  Peveril,  "  could  they  forget 
what  was  due  to  the  widow  of  their  benefactor — she 
who  had  shared  with  the  generous  Derby  the  taskoi 
bettering  their  condition  ?" 

"Do  not  blame  them,5'  said  the  Countess;  "  the 
rude  herd  acted  but  according  to  their  kind — in  present 
distress  they  forgot  former  benefits,  and,  nursed  in  their 
earthen  hovels,  with  spirits  suited  to  their  dwellings, 
they  were  incapable  of  feeling  the  glory  which  is  at- 
tached to  constancy  in  suffering.  But  that  Christian 
should  have  headed  their  revoit — that  he,  born  a  gen- 
tleman, and  bred  under  my  murdered  Derby's  own 
care  in  all  that  was  chivalrous  and  noble — that  he 
should  have  forgot  a  hundred  benefits — why  do  I  talk 
of  benefits  ? — that  he  should  have  forgotten  that  kindly 
intercourse  which  binds  man  to  man  far  more  than  the 
reciprocity  of  obligation — that  he  should  have  headed 
the  ruffians  who  broke  suddenly  into  my  apartment — 
immured  me  with  my  infants  in  one  of  my  own  castles, 
and  assumed  or  usurped  the  tyranny  of  the  island — 
that  this  should  have  been  done  by  William  Christian, 
my  vassal,  my  servant,  my  friend,  was  a  deed  of  un- 
grateful treachery,  which  even  this  age  of  treason  will 
scarcely  parallel !" 

"And  you  were  then  imprisoned, "  said  the  Lady 
Peveril,  "and  in  your  own  sovereignty,;?" 

"  For  more  than  seven  years  I  have  endured  strict 
captivity,"  said  the  Countess.  "  I  was  indeed  offered 
my  liberty,  and  even  some  means  of  support,  if  I  would 
have  consented  to  leave  the  island,  and  pledge  my 
word  that  I  would  not  endeavour  to  repossess  my  son 
in  his  father's  rights.  But  they  little  knew  the  prince- 
ly house  from  which  1  spring — and  as  little  the  royal 

^use  of  Stanley  which  1  uphold,  who  hoped  to  humble 

iarlotte  of  Tremouille  into  so  base  a  composition.  I 
Would  rather  have  starved  in  the  darkest  and  lowest 
vault  of  Ruffin  Castle,  than  have  consented  to  aught 
which  might  diminish  in  one  hair's  breadth  the  right ot 
my  son  over  his  father's  sovereignty." 

"  And  could  not  your  firmness,  in  a  case  where  hope 
seemed  lost,  induce  them  at  once  to  be  generous,  and 
dismiss  you  without  conditions  ?" 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  73 

"They  knew  me  better  than  thou  dost,  wench," an- 
» we  red  the  Countess  ;  "  once  at  liberty,  I  had  not  been 
long  without  the  means  of  disturbing  their  usurpation, 
and  Christian  would  have  as  soon  uncaged  a  lioness  to 
combat  with  her,  as  have  given  me  the  slightest  power 
of  returning  to  the  struggle  with  him.  But  time  had 
liberty  and  revenge  in  store — I  had  still  friends  and 
partizans  in  the  island,  though  they  were  compelled  to 
give  way  to  the  storm.  Even  among  the  islanders  at 
large,  most  had  been  disappointed  in  the  effects  which 
they  expected  from  the  change  of  power.  They  were 
loaded  with  exactions  by  their  new  masters,  their  pri- 
vileges were  abridged,  and  their  immunities  abolished, 
under  the  pretext  of  reducing  them  to  the  same  con- 
dition with  the  other  subjects  of  the  pretended  repub- 
lic. When  the  news  arrived  of  the  changes  which 
were  current  in  Britain,  these  sentiments  were  private- 
ly communicated  to  me  ;  and  a  rising,  effected  as  sud- 
denly and  effectually  as  that  which  had  made  me  a 
captive,  placed  me  at  liberty  and  in  possession  of  the 
Sovereignty  of  Man,  as  regent  for  my  son,  the  youthful 
Earl  of  Derby.  Do  you  think  1  enjoyed  that  sove- 
reignty long  without  doing  justice  on  that  traitor  Chris- 
tian?" 

"  How.  madam,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  who,  though  she 
knew  the  high  and  ambitious  spirit  of  the  Countess, 
scarce  anticipated  the  extremities  to  which  it  was 
capable  of  hurrying  her — "  Have  you  imprisoned  Chris- 
tian ?" 

"  Ay,  wench — in  that  sure  prison  which  felon  never 
breaks  from,"  answered  the  Countess. 

Bridgenorth,  who  had  insensibly  approached  them, 
and  was  listening  with  an  agony  of  interest  which  he 
was  unable  any  longer  to  suppress,  broke  in  with  the 
stern  exclamation — 

;t  Lady,  1  trust  you  have  not  dared " 

The  Countess  interrupted  him  in  her  turn. 

ki  I  know  not  who  you  are  who  question — and  you 
know  not  me  when  you  speak  to  me  of  that,  which  1 
dare,  or  dare  not  do.     But  you  seem  interested  in  the 

vol.  i.  7 


74  PEVERIL    OF   THE    PEAK. 

fate  of  this  Christian,  and  you  shall  hear  it. — I  was  u& 
sooner  placed  in  possession  of  my  rightful  power,  than 
I  ordered  the  Doomster  of  the  island  lo  hold  upon  the 
traitor  a  High  Court  of  Justice,  with  all  the  formalities 
of  the  isle,  as  prescribed  in  its  oldest  records.  The  court 
was  held  in  the  open  air,  before  the  judges  and  keys; 
seated  upon  chairs  of  the  living  rock — -the  criminal  was 
heard  at  length  in  his  own  defence,  which  amounted  to 
little  more  than  those  specious  allegiances  of  public 
consideration,  which  are  ever  used  to  colour  the  ugly 
front  of  treason.  He  was  fully  convicted  of  his  crime^ 
and  he  received  the  doom  of  a  traitor.'' 

"  But  which  I  trust  is  not  yet  executed  ?"  said  Lady 
Peveril,  uot  without  an  involuntary  shudder. 
*,  ;i  You  are  a  fool,  Margaret,"  said  the  countess  sharp- 
]y  ;  "  think  you  i  delayed  such  an  act  of  justice,  until 
some  wretched  intrigues  of  the  new  English  Court 
might  have  prompted  their  interference  ?  No,  wench 
— he  passed  from  the  judgment-seat  to  the  place  of 
execution,  with  no  farther  delay  than  might  be  ne- 
cessary for  his  soul's  sake.  He  was  shot  to  death  in  the 
court-yard  of  Peel  Castle,  by  a  file  of  musketeers." 

Bridgenorth  clasped  his  hands  together,  wrung  them, 
and  groaned  bitterly. 

"  As  you  seem  interested  for  this  criminal,"  added 
the  Countess,  addressing  Bridgenorth,  "  I  do  him  but 
justice  in  reporting  to  you,  that  his  death  was  firm  and 
manly,  becoming  the  general  tenor  of  his  life,  which, 
but  for  that  gross  act  of  traitorous  ingratitude,  had  been 
fair  and  honourable.  But  What  of  that  ?  The  hypo- 
crite is  a  saint,  and  the  false  traitor  a  man  of  honour, 
till  opportunity,  that  faithful  touchstone,  proves  their 
metal  to  be  base." 

"  It  is  false,  woman — it  is  false !"  said  Bridgenorth. 
no  longer  suppressing  his  indignation. 

"What  means  this  bearing,  Master  Bridgenorth?" 
said  Lady  Peveril,  much  surprised.  "  What  is  this 
Christian  to  you,  that  you  should  insult  the  countess  oi 
Derby  under  my  roof?" 

"  Speak  not  to  me  of  Countesses  and  of  ceremonies." 
=aid  Bridgenorth  ;  "  grief  and  anger  leave  me  no  lei- 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  75 

iure  for  idle  observances,  to  humour  the  vanity  of  over- 
grown children. — O  Christian  worthy,  well  worthy  of 
the  name  thou  didst  bear  !  My  friend — my  brother — 
the  brother  of  my  blessed  Alice — the  only  friend  of  my 
desolate  estate!  art  thou  then  cruelly  murdered  by  a 
female  fur  ,  who,  but  for  thee,  had  deservedl)  paid  with 
her  own  blood  that  of  God's  saints,  which  she  as  well 
as  her  tyrant  husband,  had  spilled  like  water  ! — Yes. 
cruel  murtheress  !"  he  continued,  addressing  the  Coun- 
tess, "he  whom  thou  hast  butchered  in  thy  insane  ven- 
geance, sacrificed  for  man)'  a  year  the  dictates  of  his 
own  conscience  to  the  interest  of  thy  family,  and  did 
not  desert  it  till  thy  frantic  zeal  for  royalty  had  well 
nigh  brought  to  utter  perdition  the  little  community 
in  which  he  was  horn.  Even  in  confining  thee,  he 
acted  but  as  the  friends  of  the  madman,  who  bind  him 
with  iron  for  his  own  preservation  ;  and  for  thee,  as  I 
can  bear  witness,  he  was  the  only  barrier  between  thee 
and  the  wrath  of  the  Commons  of  England,  and  but  for 
his  earnest  remonstrances  thou  hadst  suffered  the  penalty 
of  thy  malignancy,  even  like  the  wicked  wife  o=f  Ahab." 

"  Master  Bridgenorth."  said  Lady  Peveril,  "  I  will 
allow  for  your  impatience  upon  hearing  these  unpleasing 
tidings;  but  there  is  neither  use  nor  propriety  in  further 
urging  this  question.  If  in  your  grief  you  forget  other 
restraints,  I  pra)  you  to  remember  that  the  Countess  is 
my  guest  and  kinswoman,  and  is  under  such  protection 
as  1  can  afford  her.  J  beseech  you,  in  simple  courtesy, 
to  withdraw,  as  what  must  needs  be  the  best  and  most 
becoming  course  in  these  trying  circumstances." 

"  Nay,  Jet  him  remain,"  said  the  Countess,  regarding 
him  with  composure,  not  unmingled  with  triumph;  V  I 
would  not  have  it  otherwise  ;  1  would  not  that  my  re- 
venge should  be  summed  up  in  the  stinted  gratification 
which  Christian's  death  hath  afforded.  This  man's 
rude  and  clamorous  grief  only  proves  that  the  retribu- 
tion I  have  dealt  has  been  more  widely  felt  than  by  the 
wretched  sufferer  himself.  I  would  I  knew  that  it  had 
but  made  sore  as  many  rebel  hearts,  as  there  were  loyal 
breasts  afflicted  by  the  death  of  my  princely  Derby  !" 

*'  So  please  you,  madam,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  "  since 


7&  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

Master  Bridgenorth  hath  not  the  manners  to  leave  us 
upon  my  request,  we  will,  if  your  ladyship  lists,  leave 
him,  and  retire  to  my  apartment. — Farewell,  Master 
Bridgenorth;  we  will  meet  hereafter  on  better  terms." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  said  the  Ma;or,  who  had  been 
striding  hastily  through  the  room,  but  now  stood  fast, 
and  drew  himself  up,  as  one  who  has  taken  a  resolution  ; 
— "  to  yourself  I  have  nothing  to  say  but  what  is  re- 
spectful :  but  to  this  woman  I  must  speak  as  a  magis- 
trate. She  has  confessed  a  murder  in  my  presence— 
the  murder,  too,  of  my  brother-in-law — as  a  man,  and 
as  a  magistrate,  I  cannot  permit  her  to  pass  from  hence, 
excepting  under  such  custody  as  may  prevent  her  fnr- 
ther  flight.  She  has  already  confessed  that  she  is  a  fu 
gitive,  and  in  search  of  a  place  of  concealment,  until  she 
should  be  able  to  escape  into  foreign  parts. — Charlotte. 
Countess  of  Derby,  I  attach  thee  of  the  crime  of  which 
thou  hast  but  now  made  thy  boast." 

"  I  shall  not  obey  your  arrest,"  said  the  Countess, 
composedly ;  "  I  was  born  to  give,  but  not  to  receive 
such  orders.  What  have  your  English  laws  to  do  with 
my  acts  of  justice  and  of  government,  within  my  son's 
hereditary  kingdom?  Am  I  not  Queen  of  Man,  as  well 
as  Countess  of  Derby  ?  A  feudatory  Sovereign,  indeed; 
but  yet  independent  so  long  as  my  dues  of  homage  are 
duly  discharged.     What  right  can  you  assert  over  me  ?" 

"  That  given  by  the  precept  of  scripture,"  answered 
Bridgenorth — "  fc  Whoso  spilieth  mail's  blood,  by  man 
shall  his  blood  be  spilled.'  Think  not  that  the  barba- 
rous privileges  of  ancient  feudal  customs  will  avail  t© 
screen  you  from  the  punishment  due  for  an  Englishman 
murthered  upon  pretexts  inconsistent  with  the  act  of  in- 
demnity." 

"Mister  Bridgenorth,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  "if  by- 
fair  terms  you  desist  not  from  your  present  purpose,  I 
tell  you  that  I  neither  dare,  nor  will,  permit  any  vio- 
lence against  this  honourable  lady,  within  the  walls  of 
mv  husband's  Castle.'' 

"  You  will  find  yourself  unable  to  prevent  me  from 
executing  my  duty,  madamj"  said  Bridgenorth,  whosr 


PEVERIL    OF   THE    PEAK. 


11 


native  obstinacy  now  came  in  aid  of  his  grief  and  desire 
of  revenge  ;  "  I  am  a  magistrate,  and  act  by  authority." 

"  I  know  not  that,"  said  Lady  Peveril.  "  That  you 
were  a  magistrate,  Master  ^ridgenorth,  under  the  late 
usurping  powers,  I  know  well  ;  but  till  I  hear  of  your 
having  a  commission  in  the  name  of  the  King,  I  now  he- 
sitate to  obey  you  as  such." 

"  I  shall  stand  on  small  ceremony,"  said  Bridgenorth. 
"  Were  1  no  magistrate,  every  man  has  title  to  arrest 
for  murder  against  the  terms  of  the  indemnities  held 
out  by  the  Kings  proclamations,  and  i  will  make  my 
point  good." 

"  What  indemnities  ?  What  proclamations  ?"  said  the 
CountefeS  of  Derby,  indignantly.  "  Charles  Stuart  may. 
if  he  pleases,  (and  it  doth  seem  to  please  him,)  consort 
with  those  whose  hands  have  been  red  with  the  blood, 
and  blackened  with  the  plunder,  of  his  father  and  of 
his  loyal  subjects.  He  may  forgive  them  if  he  will,  and 
count  their  deeds  good  service.  What  has  that  to  do 
with  this  Christian's  offence  against  me  and  mine  ?  Born 
a  Manksman — bred  and  nursed  in  the  island — he  broke 
the  laws  under  which  he  lived,  and  died  for  the  breach 
of  them,  after  the  fair  trial  which  they  allowed. — Me* 
thinks,  Margaret,  we  have  enough  of  this  peevish  and 
foolish  magistrate — I  attend  you  to  your  apartment." 

Major  Bridgenorth  placed  himself  betwixt  them  and 
the  door,  in  a  manner  which  showed  him  determined  to 
interrupt  their  passage  ;  when  the  Lady  Peveril,  who 
thought  she  had  already  showed  more  deference  to  him 
in  this  matter  than  her  husband  was  likely  to  approve 
of,  raised  her  voice,  and  calied  loudly  on  her  steward, 
Whi taker.  That  alert  person,  who  had  heard  high 
talking,  and  a  female  voice  with  which  he  was  unac- 
quainted, had  remaiued  for  several  minutes  stationed  in 
the  anti-room,  much  afflicted  with  the  anxiety  of  his 
own  curiosity.     Of  course  he  entered  in  an  instant. 

"  Let  three  of  the  men  instantly  take  arms,"  said 
his  lady  :  -;  bring  them  into  the  anti-room,  and  wait  my 
farther  orders*" 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    SEAR. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


You  shall  have  no  worse  prison  tbantaiy  chamber; 
]Ner  jailer  than  myself. 

The  Captain 

The  command  which  Lady  Peveril  laid  on  her  do- 
mestics to  arm  themselves,  was  so  unlike  the  usual  gen- 
tle acquiescence  of  her  manners,  that  Major  Bridge- 
north  was  astonished.  u  How  mean  you,  madam  ?" 
said  he  :  "  I  thought  myself  under  a  friendly  roof." 

4i  And  you  are  so,  Major  Bridgenorth,"  said  the  Lady 
Peveril,  without  departing  from  the  natural  calmness  oi 
her  voice  and  manner ;  "  but  it  is  a  roof  which  must  no! 
be  violated  by  the  violence  of  one  friend  against  ano- 
ther." 

"  It  is  well,  madam,'*  said  Bridgenorth,  turning  to 
the  door  of  the  apartment.  "  The  worthy  Mastei 
Solsgrace  has  already  foretold,  that  the  time  was  return 
ed  when  high  houses  and  proud  names  should  be  once 
more  an  excuse  for  the  crimes  of  those  who  inhabit  the 
one  and  bear  the  other.  I  believed  him  not,  but  now 
see  he  is  wiser  than  I.  Yet  think  not  I  will  endure 
this  tamely.  The  blood  of  my  brother — of  the  friend 
of  my  bosom — shall  not  long  call  from  the  altar,  '  How 
long,  O  Lord,  how  long!'  If  there  is  one  spark  of  jus- 
lice  left  in  this  unhappy  England,  that  proud  woman 
.aid  I  shall  meet  where  she  can  have  no  partial  friend  to 
protect  her." 

So  saying,  he  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment,  when 
Lady  Peveril  said,  "  You  depart  not  from  this  place. 
Master  Bridgenorth,  unless  you  give  me  your  word  to 
renounce  all  purpose  against  the  noble  Countess's 
liberty  upon  the  present  occasion." 

" I  Would  sooner,'*  answered  he,  "subscribe  to  my 
own  dishonour,  madam,  written  down  in  express  word.-. 
than  to  any  sucb  composition.  If  any  man  offers  to  in- 
terrupt me,  his  blood  be  on  his  own  head."  As  Major 
Bridgenorth  spoke,  Whitaker  threw  open  the  door,  and 


PEVF.RIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  79 

showed  that,  with  the  alertness  of  an  old  soldier,  who 
was  not  displeased  at  seeing  things  tend  once  more  to- 
wards a  state  of  warfare,  he  had  got  wiib  him  four  stout 
fellows  in  the  Knight  of  the  Peak's  livery,  well  armed 
with  swords  and  ^pibines,  buff  coats,  and  pistols  at  their 
girdles. 

u  I  will  see,"  sai'4  Major  Bridgenorth,  "  if  any  of 
these  men  be  so  desperate  as  to  stop  me,  a  free-born 
Englishman,  and  a  magistrate,  in  the  discharge  of  my 
duty." 

So  saying,  be  advanced  upon  Whitaker  and  his  arm- 
ed assistants,  with  his  nan  I  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"  Do  not  be  so  desperate,  Master  Bridgenorth,"  ex- 
claimed Lady  Peveril;  and  added,  in  the  same  moment. 
il  Lay  hold  upon,  and  disarm  him,  WhitaKtr,  but  do 
him  no  injury." 

Her  commands  were  obeyed.  Bridgenorth,  though 
a  man  of  moral  resolution,  was  not  one  of  those  who  un 
dertaketo  cope  in  person  with  odds  of  a  description  so 
formidable.  He  half  drew  his  sword,  and  offered  such 
show  of  resistance  as  made  it  necessary  to  secure  him 
by  actual  force  ;  but  then  yielded  up  his  weapon,  and 
declared,  that  submitting  to  force  which  one  man  was 
unable  to  resist,  he  made  those  who  commanded,  and 
who  employed  it,  responsible  for  assailing  his  liberty 
w  ithout  a  legal  warrant. 

"Never  mind  a  warrant  for  a  pinch.  Master  Bridge- 
north,"  said  old  Whitaker;  "sure  enough  you  have 
often  acted  upon  a  worse  yourself.  My  lady's  word  is 
as  good  a  warrant,  sure,  as  Old  Noll's  commission  ;  and 
you  bore  that  many  a  day,  Master  Bridgenorth,  and  laid 
me  in  the  stocks  for  drinking  the  king's  health,  Master 
Bridgeworth,  and  never  cared  a  farthing  about  the  laws 
of  England." 

"  Hold  your  saucy  tongue,  Whitaker,"  said  the  Lady 
Peveril;  "  and  do  you,  Master  Bridgenorth,  not  take  it 
to  heart  that  you  are  detained  prisoner  for  a  few  hours, 
until  the  Counfess  of  Derby  can  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  your  pursuit.  I  could  easily  send  an  escort  with 
her  that  might  bid  a  defiance  to  any  force  you  could 
muster;  but  I  wishj  Heaven  knows,  to  bury  the  remem- 


30  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

brance  of  old  civil  dissensions,  not  to  awaken  new. 
Once  more,  will  you  think  better  on  ii — assume  youi 
sword  again;  and  forget  whom  you  have  now  seen  at 
Martindale  Castle?" 

"Never,"  said  Bridge  north.  "  ^e  crime  of  this 
cruel  woman  will  be  the  last  of  human  injuries  which  I 
can  forget.  The  last  thought  of  earthly  kind  which  will 
leave  me,  will  be  the  desire  that  justice  shall  be  done 
on  her." 

"If  such  be  your  sentiments,"  said  Lady  Peveril, 
"  though  they  are  more  allied  to  revenge  than  to  justice. 
I  must  provide  for  my  friend's  safety,  by  putting  a  re- 
straint on  your  person.  In  this  room  you  will  be  sup 
plied  with  every  necessary  of  life,  and  every  conve- 
nience ;  and  a  message  shall  relieve  your  domestics  of 
the  anxiety  which  your  absence  from  he  Hall  is  not  un 
likely  to  occasion.  When  a  few  hours,  at  most  two 
days,  are  over,  I  will  myself  relieve  you  from  confine- 
ment, and  demand  your  pardon  for  now  acting  as  your 
obstinacy  compels  me  to  do.  ' 

The  Major  made  no  answer,  excepting  that  he  was  in 
her  hands,  and  must  submit  to  her  pleasure  ;  and  then 
turned  sullenly  to  the  window,  as  if  desirous  to  be  rid  of 
their  presence. 

The  Countess  and  the  Lady  Peveril  left  the  apart- 
ment arm  in  arm  ;  and  the  lady  issued  forth  her  direc- 
tions to  Whitaker  concerning  tiie  mode  in  which  she 
was  desirous  that  Bridgenorth  should  be  guarded  and 
treated  during  his  temporary  confinement ;  at  the  same 
time  explaining  to  him,  that  the  safety  >f  the  Countess 
of  Derby  required  that  he  should  be  closely  watched. 

In  all  proposals  for  the  prisoner's  security,  such  as 
the  regular  relief  of  guards,  and  the  like,  Whitaker  joy- 
fully acquiesced,  and  undertook,  body  for  body,  that  he 
should  be  detained  in  captivity  for  the  necessary  pe- 
riod. But  the  old  steward  was  not  half  so  docile  when 
it  came  to  be  considered  how  the  captive's  bedding 
and  table  should  be  supplied,  and  he  thought  Lady  Pe- 
veril displayed  a  very  undue  degree  of  attention  to  her 
prisoner's  comforts.  "  1  warrant,"  he  said,  "that  the 
cuekoldy  Roundhead  ate  enough  of  our  fat  beef  yester- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  81 

day  to  serve  bim  for  a  month ;  and  a  little  fasting  will 
do  his  health  good.  Marry,  for  drink,  he  shall  have 
plenty  of  cold  water  to  coo!  his  hot  liver,  which  I  will 
be  bound  is  still  hissing  with  the  strong  liquors  of  yes- 
terday. And  as  for  bedding,  there  are  the  fine  dry* 
boards — more  wholesome  than  the  wet  straw  I  lay  up- 
on when  1  was  in  the  stocks,  I  trow." 

"  Whitaker,"  said  the  lady,  peremptorily,  "  I  de- 
sire you  to  provide  Master  Bridgenorth's  bedding  and 
food  in  the  way  I  have  already  signified  to  you  ;  and  to 
behave  yourself  towards  him  in  all  civility." 

"  Lack-a-day  !  yes,  my  lady,"  said  Whitaker  ;  "  you 
shall  have  all  your  directions  punctually  obeyed  ;  but. 
as  an  old  servant.  1  cannot  but  speak  my  mind." 

The  ladies  retired  after  this  conference  with  the 
steward  in  the  anti-chamber,  and  were  soon  seated  in 
another  apartment,  which  was  peculiarly  dedicated  to 
the  use  of  the  mistress  of  the  mansion — having  on  the 
one  side,  access  to  the  family  bed-room  ;  and  on  the 
other  to  the  still-room  which  communicated  with  the 
garden.  There  was  also  a  small  door  which,  ascending 
a  few  steps,  ied  to  that  balcony,  already  mentioned, 
that  overhung  the  kitchen  ;  and  the  same  passage,  by  a 
separate  door,  admitted  to  the  principal  gallery  in  the 
chapeJ ;  so  that  the  spiritual  and  temporal  atfairs  of  the 
Castle  were  placed  almost  at  once  within  reach  of  the 
same  regulating  and  directing  eye. 

In  the  tapestried  room,  from  which  issued  these  va- 
rious sally-ports,  the  Countess  and  Lady  Peveril  were 
speedily  seated  ;  and  the  former,  smiling  upon  the  lat- 
ter, said,  as  she  took  her  hand,  b'  Two  things  have  hap- 
pened to-day  which  might  have  surprised  me,  if  any 
thing  ought  to  surprise  me  in  such  times; — the  first  is, 
that  yonder  round-headed  fellow  should  have  dared  to 
use  such  insolence  in  the  house  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
If  youriiusband  is  yet  the  same  honest  and  downright 
cavalier  whom  I  once  knew,  and  had  chanced  to  be  at 
home,  he  would  luve  thrown  the  knave  out  of  the  win- 
dow. But  what  1  wonder  at  still  more,  Margaret,  is 
your  generalsh.p.  1  hardly  thought  you  had  courage 
sufficient  to  have   taken  such  decided  measures,  after 


82  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

keeping  on  terms  with  the  man  so  long.  When  he 
spoke  of  justices  and  warrants,  you  looked  so  overaw- 
ed that  I  thought  1  felt  the  clutch  of  the  parish-beadles 
on  my  shoulder,  to  drag  me  to  prison  as  a  vagrant." 
,  "  We  owe  Master  Brid^enorth  some  deference,  my 
dearest  lady,"  answered  the  Lady  Peveril  ;  "  he  ha^ 
served  us  often,  and  kindly,  in, these  lat*-  times  ;  but 
neither  he,  nor  any  one  else,  shall  insult  the  Counter 
of  Derby  in  the  house  of  Margaret  Stanley." 

"  Thou  art  become  a  perfect  heroine,  Margaret,"  re 
plied  the  Countess. 

"  Two  sieges,  and  alarms  innumerable,"  said  Lady 
Peveril,  "  may  have  taught  me  presence  of  mind.  M} 
courage  is,  I  believe,  as  slender  as  ever." 

"  Presence  of  mind  is  courage,"  answered  the 
Countess.  "Real  valour  consists  not  in  being  insensi- 
ble to  danger,  but  in  being  prompt  to  confront  and  dis- 
arm it ; — and  we  may  have  present  occasion  for  all  that 
we  possess,"  she  added,  with  some  slight  emotion,  "  for 
I  hear  the  trampling  of  horses'  steps  on  the  pavement 
of  the  court." 

In  one  moment,  the  boy  Julian,  breathless  with  joy. 
came  flying  into  the  roo  u,  to  say  that  papa  was  return- 
ed, with  Lamin^ton  and  Sam  Brewer;  and  that  he  was 
to  ride  Black  Hastings  to  the  stable.  In  the  second, 
the  tramp  of  the  honest  Knight's  heavy  jack-boots  was 
heard,  as,  in  his  haste  to  see  his  lady,  he  ascended  the 
staircase  by  two  steps  at  a  time.  He  burst  into  the 
room;  his  manly  countenance  and  disordered  dress 
showing  marks  that  he  had  been  riding  fast;  and  with- 
out looking  to  any  one  else,  caught  his  good  lady  in  his 
arms,  and  kissed  her  a  dozen  of  times. —  Blushing,  and 
with  some  difficulty.  Lady  Peveril  extricated  herself 
from  Sir  Geoffrey's  arms ;  and  in  a  voice  of  bashful 
and  gentle  rebuke,  bid  him,  for  shame,  observe  who 
was  in  the  room. 

"  One,"  said  the  Countess,  advancing  to  him,  "who 
is  right  glad  to  see  that  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril,  though 
turned  courtier  and  favourite,  still  values  the  treasure 
which   she  had  some   share  in  bestowing  upon  him. 


J-EVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  83 

Vou  cannot  have  forgot  the  raising  of  the  leaguer  of 
Latham-house." 

"  The  noble  Countess  of  Derby  !"  said  Sir  Geoffrey, 
doffing  his  plumed  hat  with  an  air  of  deep  deference, 
and  kissing  with  much  reverence  the  hand  which  she 
held  out  to  him  ;  "  I  am  as  glad  to  see  your  ladyship  in 
my  poor  hou>e,  as  I  would  be  to  h<jar  that  they  had 
found  a  vein  of  lead  in  the  Brown  Tor.  I  rode  hard, 
in  hope  to  be  your  escort  through  the  county.  I  fear- 
ed you  might  have  fallen  into  bad  hands,  hearing  there 
was  a  knave  sent  out  with  a  warrant  from  the  Coun^ 
Gil." 

4i  When   heard  you  so?  and  from  whom  ?" 

M  It  was  from  Choimo  <dley  of  Vale  Royal,'5  said  Sir 
Geoffrey  ;  "  he  is  down  to  make  provision  tor  your  safe- 
ty through  Cheshire  ;  and  1  promised  to  bring  you  there 
in  safety.  Prince  Rupert,  Ormond,  and  other  friends. 
io  not  doubt  the  matter  will  be  driven  to  a  fine  ;  but 
they  say  the  Chancellor,  and  Harry  Bennet,  and  some 
others  of  the  over-sea  councillors,  are  furious  at  what 
they  call  a  breach  of  the  King's  proclamation.  Hang 
them,  say  I !  they  left  us  to  bear  all  the  beating  ;  and 
now  they  are  incensed  that  we  should  wish  to  clear 
-cores  with  those  who  rode  us  like  night-mares  !" 

"  What  did  they  talk  of  for  my  chastisement  ?"  said 
(he  Countess. 

;'  1  wot  not,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey  ;  "  some  friends,  as  1 
^aid,  from  our  kind  Cheshire  and  others,  tried  to  bring 
it  to  a  fine  ;  but  the  others  spoke  of  nothing  but  the 
Tower,  and  a  long  imprisonment." 

"  J-  have  suffered  imprisonment  long  enough  for  Kins; 
Charles's  sake,"  said  the  Countess  ;  and  have  no  mind 
*to  undergo  it  at  his  hand.  Besides,  if  1  am  removed 
from  the  personal  superintendence  of  my  son's  domi- 
nions in  Man,  1  know  not  what  new  usurpation  may  be 
attempted  there.  1  must  be  obliged  to  you,  cousin,  to 
contrive  that  f  may  get  in  security  to  Vale  Royal,  and 
from  thence  I  know  1  shall  be  guarded  safely  to  Liver- 
pool." 

";  You  may  rely  on  my  guidance  and  protection,  noble 
lady."  answered  her  host,  "  though  you  had  come  here 


34  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

at  midnight,  and  with  the  rogue's  head  in  your  aprou 
like  Judith  in  the  Holy  Apocrypha,  which  I  joy  to  hear 
once  more  read  in  churches." 

k'  Do  the  gentry  resort  mu^'h  to  the  ccurt  ?"  said  the 
lady. 

"  Ay,  madam,"  replied  Sir  Geoffrey  ;"  "and  accord 
ingto  our  saying,  when  miners  do  hegin  to  bore  in  these 
parts,  it  is  for  the   Grace  of  God,  and  what  they  there 
.nay  find." 

"  Meet  the  old  Cavaliers  with  much  countenance  ? ' 
continued  the  Countess. 

"  Faith,  madam,  to  speak  truth,"  replied  the  Knight, 
i;  the  King  hath  so  gracious  a  manner,  that  it  makes 
every  man's  hope*  blossom,  though  we  have  seen  but 
few  that  nave  ripened  into  fruit." 

"  You  have  not,  yourself,  my  cousin,"  answered  the 
Countess,  "  had  room  to  complain  of  ingratitude,  I  trust: 
Few  have  less  deserved  it  at  the  king's  hand." 

Sir  Geoffrey  was  unwilling,  like  most  prudent  persons, 
to  own  the  existence  of  expectations  which  had  proved 
fallacious,  yet  had  too  little  art  in  his  character  to  con- 
ceal his  disappointment  entirely.  "Who?  I,  madam  ?" 
he  said  ;  *'  Ala*!  what  should  a  poor  country  knight  ex- 
pect from  the  King,  besides  the  pleasure  01  seeing  him 
in  Whitehall  once  more,  and  enjoying  his  own  again? 
And  his  Majesty  was  very  gracious  when  I  was  present- 
ed, and  spoke  to  me  of  Worcester,  and  of  my  horse, 
Black  Hastings — he  had  forgot  his  name  though — faith, 
and  mine  too,  I  believe,  had  not  Prince  Rupert  whis- 
pered him.  And  I  sa^v  some  old  friends,  such  as  his 
Grace  of  Ormond,  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale,  Sir  Phi- 
lip Musgrave,  and  so  forth ;  and  had  a  jolly  rouse  or 
two,  to  the  tune  of  old  times." 

"I  should  have  thought  so  many  wounds  received — 
.0  manv  dangers  risked — such  considerable  losses — me- 
rited something  mor-j  than  a  ^a\v  smooth  words,"  said 
the  Countess. 

'"  Nay,  my  lady,  there  were  other  friends  of  mine 
*'ho  had  the  same  thought,"  answered  Peveril.  "  Some 
were  of  opinion  that  the  loss  of  so  many  acres  of  fair 
land  was  worth  some  reward  of  honour  at  least ;    and 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  8$ 

there  were,  who  thought  my  descent  from  William  the 
Conqueror — craving  your  ladyship's  pardon  for  boasting 
it  in  your  presence — would  not  have  become  a  higher 
rank  or  title  worse  than  the  pedigree  of  some  who  have 
been  promoted.  But  what  said  the  witty  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, forsooth?  (whose  grandsire  was  a  Leicester- 
shire Knight — rather  poorer,  and  scarce  so  well-born  as 
myself)— -Why,  he  said,  that  if  all  of  my  degree  who 
deserved  well  of  the  King  in  the  late  times  were  to  be 
made  peers,  the  House  of  Lords  must  meet  upon  Salis- 
bury Plain!" 

"  And  that  bad  jest  passed  for  a  good  argument?" 
said  the  Countess ;  w  and  well  it  might,  when  good  ar- 
guments pass  for  bad  jests. r— But  here  comes  one  I  must 
be  acquainted  with." 

This  was  little  Julian,  who  now  re-entered  the  hall, 
leading  his  little  sister,  as  if  he  had  brought  her  to  bear 
witness  to  the  boastful  tale  which  he  told  his  father,  of 
his  having  manfully  ridden  Black  Hastings  to  the  stable- 
yard,  alone  in  the  saddle  ;  and  that  Saunders,  though 
he  walked  by  the  horse's  head,  did  not  once  put  his  hand 
upon  the  rein,  and  Brewer,  though  he  stood  beside  him, 
scarce  held  him  by  the  shoulder.  The  father  kissed  the 
boy  heartily  ;  "and  the  Countess,  calling  him  to  her  so 
soon  as  Sir  Geoffrey  had  set  him  down,  kissed  his  fore- 
head also,  and  then  surveyed  all  his  features  with  a  keen 
and  penetrating  eye. 

"  He  is  a  true  Peveril,''  said  she,  "  mixed  as  he 
should  be  with  some  touch  of  the  Stanley.  Cousin,  you 
must  grant  me  my  boon,  and  when  I  am  safely  establish- 
ed, and  have  my  present  affair  arranged,  you  must  let 
me  have  this  little  Julian  of  yours  some  time  hence,  to 
he  nurtured  in  my  house,  held  as  my  page,  and  the  play- 
fellow of  the  little  Derby.  I  trust  in  Heaven,  they  will 
be  such  friends  as  their  fathers  have  been,  and  may 
God  send  them  more  fortunate  times!" 

<;  Marry,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  proposal  with  all 
my  heart,  madam,"  said  the  Knight.  "  There  are  so 
many  noble  houses  decayed,  and  so  many  more  in 
which  the  exercise  and  discipiine  for  the  training  of 
noble  youths  is  given  up  and  neglected,  that  I  haveof- 

vol.  i.  3 


PEVERiL  OF  THE   PEAK. 

ten  feared  1  must  have  kept  Gil  to  be  young  master  a ? 
home  ;  and  I  have  had  too  little  nurture  myself  to  teach 
him  much,  and  so  he  should  have  been  a  mere  hunt- 
ing,  hawking  Knight  of  Derbyshire.  But  in  your  lady- 
ship's household,  and  with  the  noble  Earl,  he  will  have 
all,  and  more  than  all,  the  education  which  I  could  de- 
sire." 

"  There  shall  be  no  distinction  betwixt  them,  cou- 
sin," said  the  Countess ;  "  Margaret  Stanley's  son  shall 
be  as  much  the  object  of  care  to  me  as  my  own,  since 
you  are  kindly  disposed  to  intrust  him  to  my  charge. 
Vou  look  pale,  Margaret,"  she  continued,  t;  and  the 
tear  stands  in  your  eye  !  Do  not  be  so  foolish,  my  love 
— what  1  ask  is  better  than  you  can  desire  for  your 
boy  :  for  the  house  of  my  father,  the  Duke  de  la  Tre- 
mouille,  was  the  most  famous  school  of  chivalry  in 
France  ;  nor  have  I  degenerated  from  him,  or  suffered 
any  relaxation  in  that  noble  discipline  which  trained 
young  gentlemen  to  do  honour  to  their  race.  You  can 
promise  your  Julian  no  such  advantages  if  you  train  him 
up  a  mere  home-bred  youth." 

"  I  acknowledge  the  importance  of  the  favour,  ma- 
dam," said  Lady  Peveril,  "  and  must  acquiesce  in  what 
your  ladyship  honours  us  by  proposing,  and  Sir  Geof- 
frey approves  of;  but  Julian  is  an  only  child,  and " 

u  An  only  son,"  said  the  Countess,  "  but  surely  not 
an  only  child.  You  pay  too  high  deference  to  our 
masters,  the  male  sex,  if  you  allow  Julian  to  engross 
all  your  affection,  and  spare  none  for  this  beautiful 
girl." 

So  saying,  she  set  -down  Julian,  and.  taking  Alice 
Bridgenorth  on  her  lap,  began  to  caress  her  ;  and  there 
was,  notwithstanding  her  masculine  character,  some- 
thing so  sweet  in  the  tone  of  her  voice,  and  in  the  cast* 
of  her  features,  that  the  child  immediately  smiled,  and 
replied  to  her  marks  of  fondness.  This  mistake  em- 
barrassed Lady  Peveril  exceedingly.  Knowing  the 
blunt  impetuosity  of  her  husband's  character,  his  devo- 
tion to  the  memory  of  the  deceased  Earl  of  Derby,  and 
iiis  correspondent  veneration  for  his  widow,  she  was 
alarmed  for  the  consequences  of  his  hearing  the  conduct 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  87 

of  Bridgenorth  that-  morning,  and  was  particularly  de- 
sirous that  he  should  not  learn  it  save  from  herself  in 
private,  and  after  due  preparation.  But  the  Countess's 
error  led  to  a  more  precipitate  disclosure. 

"  That  pretty  girl,  madam,"  answered  Sir  Geoffrey. 
'  is  none  of  ours — I  wish  she  were.  She  belongs  to  a 
neighbour  hard  by — a  good  man,  and,  to  say  truth,  a 
good  neighbour — though  he  was  carried  off  from  hi- 
allegiance  in  the  late  times  by  a  damned  Presbyterian 
scoundrel,  who  calls  himself  a  parson,  and  whom  I  hope 
to  fetch  down  from  his  perch  presently,  with  a  wanion 
to  him!  He  has  been  cock  of  the  roost  long  enough 
— There  are  rods  in  pickle  to  switch  the  Geneva  cloak 
with,  I  can  tell  the  sour-faced  rogues  that  much.  But 
this  child  is  the  daughter  of  Bridgenorth — neighbour 
Bridgenorth  of  Moultrassie-Hall."  t 

u  Bridgenorth  ?"  said  the  Countess;  "I  thought  T 
had  known  all  the  honourable  names  in  Derbyshire — 1 
remember  nothing  of  Bridgenorth.  But  stay — was 
there  not  a  sequestrator  and  committee-man  of  that 
name  ?     Sure,  it  cannot  be  he." 

Peveril  took  some  shame  to  himself  as  he  replied, 
:t  It  is  the  very  man  whom  your  ladyship  means,  and  you 
may  conceive  the  reluctance  with  which  I  submitted  to 
receive  good  offices  from  one  of  his  kidney;  but  had  1 
not  done  so,  I  should  have  scarce  known  how  to  find  a 
roof  to  cover  Dame  Margaret's  head." 

The  Countess,  as  he  spoke,  raised  the  child  gently 
from  her  lap,  and  placed  it  upon  the  carpet,  though 
little  Alice  snowed  a  disinclination  to  the  change  of  place, 
which  the  Lady  of  Derby  and  Man  would  certainly 
have  indulged  in  a  child  of  patrician  descent  and  loyal 
parentage. 

"  I  blame  you  not,"  she  said  ;  "  no  one  knows  what 
temptation  will  bring  us  down  to.  Yet  I  did  think 
Peveril  of  the  Peak  would  have  resided  in  its  deep- 
est cavern,*  sooner  than  owed  an  obligation  to  a  regi- 
cide." 

"  Nay,  madam, "  answered  the  Knight,  "  my  neigh- 
bour is  bad  enough,  but  not  so  bad  as  you  would  make 
him  ;  he  is  but  a  Presbyterian — that.  I  must  confess- 
but  not  an  Independent." 


8tf  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

"  A  variety  of  the  same  monster,"  said  the  Coui 
"who  hallooed  while  the  others  hunted,  and  bound  the 
victim  whom  the  Independents  massacred.  Betwixt 
such  sects  I  prefer  the  Independents.  They  are  at  least 
bold,  barefaced,  merciless  villains,  have  more  of  the 
tiger  in  them,  and  less  of  the  crocodile.  I  have  no 
doubt  it  was  that  worthy  gentleman  who  took  it  upon 

him  this  morning- " 

She  stopped  short,  for  she  saw  Lady  Peveril  was 
vexed  and  embarrassed. 

"  I  am,"  she  said,  "  the  most  luckless  of  beings. 
I  have  said  something,  I  know  not  what,  to  distress  you, 
Margaret — Mystery  is  a  bad  thing,  and  betwixt  us  there 
should  be  none." 

"  There  is  none,  madam/'  said  Lady  Peveril,  some- 
thing impatiently  ;  "  I  waited  but  an  opportunity  to  tell 
my  husband  what  had  happened. — Sir  Geoffrey,  Mas- 
ter Bridgenorth  was  unfortunately  here  when  the  Lady 
Derby  and  I  met ;  that  he  thought  it  part  of  his  duty  to 

speak  of " 

"  To  speak  of  what  ?"  said  the  Knight,  bending  hi- 
brows.  "  You  were  ever  something  too  fond,  dame,  of 
giving  way  to  the  usurpation  of  such  people." 

"  I  only  mean,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  "  that  as  the  per- 
son— he  to  whom  Lady  Derby's  story  related,  was  the 
brother  of  his  late  lady,  he  threatened — but  I  cannot 
think  that  he  was  serious." 

"  Threaten  ? — threaten  the  Lady  of  Derby  and  Man 
in  my  house  ! — the  widow  of  my  friend — the  noble 
Charlotte  of  Latham-House  ! — by  Heaven,  the  prick- 
eared  slave  shall  answer  it.  How  comes  it  that  my 
knaves  threw  him  not  out  of  the  window  ?" 

"Alas  !  Sir  Geoffrey,  you  forgot  how  much  we  owe 
him,"  said  the  Lady. 

41  Owe  him  !*'  said  the  Knight,  still  more  indignant; 
for  in  his  singleness  of  apprehension  he  conceived  that 
his  wife  alluded  to  pecuniary  obligations, — "  if  I  do  owe 
him  some  money,  hath  he  not  security  for  it  ?  and 
must  he  have  the  right,  over  and  above,  to  domineer 
and  play  the  magistrate  in  Martindale  Castle  ? — Where 
is  he  ? — what  have  you  made  of  him  ? — I  will — I  must 
speak  with  him." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  89 

"  Be  patient,  Sir  Geoffrey,  said  the  Countess,  who 
now  discerned  the  cause  of  her  kinswoman's  apprehen- 
sion ;  "  and  be  assured  I  did  not  need  your  chivalry  to 
defend  me  against  this  discourteous  faitour,  as  Morte 
<T Arthur  would  have  called  him.  I  promise  you  my 
kinswoman  hath  fully  righted  my  wrong  ;  and  I  am  so 
pleased  to  owe  my  deliverance  entirely  to  her  gallan- 
try, that  I  charge  and  command  you,  as  a  true  knight,  not 
to  mingle  in  the  adventure  of  another.'5 

Lady  Peveril,  who  knew  her  husband's  blunt  and 
impatient  temper,  and  perceived  that  he  was  becoming 
angry,  now  took  up  the  story,  and  plainly  and  simply 
pointed  out  the  cause  of  Master  Bridgenorth's  inter- 
ference. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  the  Knight ;  "  I  thought  he 
had  more  sense  ;  and  that  this  happy  change  might  have 
done  some  good  upon  him.  But  you  should  have  told 
me  this  instantly — It  consists  not  with  my  honour  that 
he  should  be  kept  prisoner  in  this  house,  as  if  1  feared 
any  thing  he  could  do  to  annoy  the  noble  Countess, 
while  she  is  under  my  roof,  or  within  twenty  miles  of 
this  castle." 

So  saying,  and  bowing  to  the  Countess,  he  went 
straight  to  the  gilded  chamber,  leaving  Lady  Peveril  in 
great  anxiety  for  the  event  of  an  angry  meeting  between 
a  temper  hasty  as  that  of  her  husband,  and  stubborn 
like  that  of  Bridgenorth.  Her  apprehensions  were, 
however,  unnecessary ;  for  the  meeting  was  not  fated 
to  take  place. 

When  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril.  having  dismissed  Whit- 
aker  and  his  sentinels,  entered  the  gilded  chamber,  in 
which  he  expected  to  find  his  captive,  the  prisoner  had 
escaped,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  in  what  manner.  The 
sliding  pannel  had,  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  esca- 
ped the  memory  of  Lady  Peveril,  and  of  Whitaker,  the 
only  persons  who  knew  any  thing  of  it.  It  was  proba- 
ble that  a  chink  had  remained  open,  sufficient  to  indi- 
cate its  existence  to  Bridgenorth  ;  who,  withdrawing  it 
altogether,  had  found  his  way  into  the  secret  apartment 
with  which  it  communicated,  and  from  thence  to  the 
postern  of  the  Castje  by  another  secre {.      ^sa^e,  which 

8* 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

had  been  contrived  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  as  is 
not  uncommon  in  ancient  mansions  ;  the  lords  of  which 
were  liable  to  so  many  mutations  of  fortune,  that  they 
usually  contrived  to  secure  some  lurking-place  and  se- 
cret mode  of  retreat  from  their  fortresses.  That  Bridge- 
north  had  discovered  and  availed  himself  of  this  secret 
mode  of  retreat  was  evident ;  because  the  private  doors 
communicating;  with  the  postern  and  the  sliding  pannel 
in  the  gilded  chamber,  were  both  left  open. 

Sir  Geoffrey  returned  to  the  ladies  with  looks  of  per- 
plexity. While  he  deemed  Bridgenorth  within  his 
reach,  he  was  apprehensive  of  nothing  he  could  do  ;  for 
lie  felt  himself  his  superior  in  personal  strength,  and  in 
that  species  of  courage  which  induces  a  man  to  rush, 
without  hesitation,  upon  personal  danger.  But  when 
at  a  distance,  he  \<zd  been  for  many  years  accustomed 
to  consider  Bridgenorth's  power  and  influence  as  some- 
thing formidable  :  .  withstanding  the  late  change 
of  affairs,  his  ideas  so  naturally  reverted  to  his  neigh- 
hour  as  a  powerful  friend  or  dangerous  enemy,  that  he 
felt  more  apprehension  on  the  Countess's  score,  than  he 
was  willing  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself.  The  Coun- 
tess observed  his  downcast  and  anxious  brow,  and  re- 
quested to  know  if  her  stay  there  was  likely  to  involve 
him  in  any  trouble,  or  in  any  danger. 

'''  The  trouble  should  be  welcome,"  said  Sir  Geof- 
frey, u  and  more  welcome  the  danger  which  should 
coine  on  such  an  account.  My  plan  was,  that  your 
ladyship  should  have  honoured  Martindale  with  a  ie\r 
residence,  which  might  have  been  kept  private 
until  the  search  after  you  was  ended.  Had  I  seen  this 
fellow  Bridgenorth,  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  have  com- 
pelled him  to  act  discreetly  ;  but  he  is  now  at  liberty, 
;il  keep  out  of  my  reach  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  be 

t&  the  secret  of  the  priest's  chamber." 

He  re  th  uused,  and  seemed  much  embarrass- 

cnl  can,  tben,  neither  conceal  nor  protect  me  .'" 
the  Countess, 
-•don,  my  honoured  lady,"  answered  the  Knight. 
let  me  say  out  my  say.     The  plain  truth  is,  that 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  01 

this  man  hath  many  friends  among  the  Presbyterian^ 
here,  who  are  more  numerous  than  I  would  wish  them  ; 
and  if  he  falls  in  with  the  pursuivant  fellow  who  carries 
the  warrant  of  the  Privy  Council,  it  is  likely  he  will 
back  him  with  force  sufficient  to  try  to  execute  it.  And 
1  doubt  whether  any  of  our  own  friends  can  be  sum- 
moned together  in  haste,  sufficient  to  resist  such  a 
power  as  they  are  like  (o  bring  together.'1 

"  Nor  would'  I  wish  any  friends  to  take  arms  in  mv 
name,  against  the  King's  warrant.  Sir  Geoffrey. "  said 
the  Countess. 

••  Nay.  for  that  matter."  replied  the  Knight,  "  an  his 
Majesty  will  grant  warrants  against  his  best  friends,  he 
must  look  to  have  them  resisted.  But  the  best  I  can 
think  of  in  this  emergence  is — though  the  proposal  be 
something  inhospitable — that  your  ladyship  should  take 
presently  to  horse,  if  your  fatigue  will  permit.  I  will 
mount  also,  with  some  brisk  fellows,  who  will  lodge 
you  safe  at  Vale  Royal,  though  the  sheriff  stopped  the 
way  with  a  whole  posse  comitatus," 

The  Countess  of  Derby  willingly  acquiesced  in  this 
proposal.  She  had  enjoyed  a  night's  sound  repose  in 
the  private  chamber,  to  which  Ellesmere  had  guided 
her  on  the  preceding  evening,  and  was  quite  ready  to 
resume  her  route,  or  flight — "  she  scarce  knew,"  she 
said,  u  which  of  the  two  to  term  it." 

Lady  Peveril  wept  at  the  necessity  which  seemed  to 
hurry  her  earliest  friend  and  protectress  from  under  her 
roof,  at  the  instant  when  the  clouds  of  adversity  were 
gathering  around  her ;  but  she  saw  no  alternative 
equally  safe.  Nay,  however  strong  her  attachment  to 
Lady  Derby,  she  couid  not  but  be  more  readily  recon- 
ciled to  her  hasty  departure,  when  she  considered  the 
inconvenience,  and  even  danger,  in  which  her,presence, 
at  such  a  time,  and  in  such  circumstances,  was  like  to 
►Ire  a  man  so  bold  and  hot-tempered  as  her  husband 
Sir  Geoir: 

While  Lady  Peveril,  therefore,  made  every  arrange- 
ment wlrich  time  permuted  and  circumstances  required, 

the  Countess  prosecuting  her  journey,  her  husband. 
whose  spirits  always  rose  with  the  prospect  of  action. 
issued  his  orders  to  Whitaker  to  get  together  a  few  stout 


02  PEVEB.IL    OF   THE    PEAK. 

fellows,  with  back  and  breast-pieces,  and  steel-caps, 
"  There  are  the  two  lackies,  and  Outramand  Saunders, 
besides  the  other  groom  fellow,  and  Roger  Raine,  and 
his  son ;  but  bid  Roger  not  come  drunk  again  ; — thy- 
self, young  Dick  of  the  Dale  and  his  servant,  and  a  file 
or  two  of  the  tenants, — we  shall  be  enough  for  any  force 
they  can  make.  All  these  are  fellows  that  will  strike 
hard,  and  ask  no  question  why — their  hands  are  ever 
readier  than  their  tongues,  and  their  mouths  are  more 
made  for  drinking  than  speaking." 

Whitaker,  apprised  of  the  necessity  of  the  case,  ask- 
ed if  he  should  not  warn  Sir  Jasper  Cranbourne. 

"Not  a  word  to  him,  if  you  live,"  said  the  Knight; 
':  this  may  be  an  outlawry  as  they  call  it,  for  what  1 
know  ;  and  therefore  I  will  bring  no  lands  or  tenements 
into  peril,  saving  mine  own.  Sir  Jasper  hath  had  a 
troublesome  time  of  it  for  many  a  year.  By  my  will, 
he  shall  sit  quiet  for  the  rest  of's  days." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Fang.     A'reseue!  a  rescue 

Mrs.  Quickly.     Good  people,  bring  a  rescue  or  two. 

Henry  IV.  Pari  I 

The  followers  of  Peveril  were  so  well  accustomed 
to  the  sound  of  "  Boot  and  Saddle,"  that  they  were  soon 
mounted  and  in  order  ;  and  in  all  the  form,  and  with 
some  of  the  dignity  of  danger,  proceeded  to  escort  the 
Countess  of  Derby  through  the  hilly  and  desert  track 
of  country  which  connects  the  frontier  of  the  shire  with 
the  neighbouring  county  of  Cheshire.  The  cavalcade 
moved  with  considerable  precaution,  which  they  had 
been  taught  by  the  discipline  of  the  Civil  Wars.  One 
wary  and  weil-mounted  trooper  rode  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  in  advance  ;  followed,  at  about  half  that  dis- 
tance, by  two  more,  with  their  carabines  advanced,  as 
if  ready  for  action.  About  one  hundred  yards  behind 
the  advance,  came  the  main  body  ;  where  the  Coun- 
tess of  Derby,  mounted  on  Lady  Peveril's  ambling  pal- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  33 

Grey,  (tor  her  own  bad  been  exhausted  by  the  journey 
from  London  to  Marlindale  Castle,)  accompanied  by 
one  groom,  of  approved  fidelity,  and  one  waiting-maid, 
was  attended  and  guarded  by  the  Knight  of  the  Peak 
and  three  files  of  good  and  practised  horsemen.  In 
the  rear  came  Whitaker,  with  Lance  Outram,  as  men 
of  especial  trust,  to  whom  the  covering  the  retreat  was 
confided.  They  rode,  as  the  Spanish  proverb  ex- 
presses it,  "with  the  beard  on  the  shoulder,"  looking 
around,  that  is,  from  lime  to  time,  and  using  every  pre- 
caution to  have  the  speediest  knowledge  of  any  pur- 
suit which  might  take  place. 

But  however  wise  in  discipline,  Peverii  and  his  fol- 
lowers were  somewhat  remiss  in  civil  policy.  The 
Knight  communicated  to  Whitaker,  though  without  any 
apparent  necessity,  the  precise  nature  of  their  present 
expedition  ;  and  Whitaker  was  equally  communicative 
to  his  comrade  Lance,  the  keeper.  "  It  is  strange 
enough,  Master  Whitaker,"  said  the  latter,  when  he  had 
heard  the  case,  "  and  I  wish  you,  being  a  wise  man. 
would  expound  it ; — why,  when  we  have  been  wishing; 
for  the  King — and  praying  for  the  King — and  fighting 
for  the  King — and  dying  for  the  King,  for  these  twenty 
years,  the  first  thins  we  find  to  do  on  his  return,  is  to 
into  harness  to  resist  his  warrant?" 
M  Pooh  !  you  silly  fellow,"  saicl  Whitaker,  "  that  is 
all  you  know  of  the  true  bottom  of  our  quarrel !  Why 
man,  we  fought  for  the  King's  person  against  his  war- 
rant, all  along  from  the  very  beginning ;  for  1  remem- 
ber the  rogue's  proclamations,  and  so  forth,  always  ran 
in  the  name  of  the  King  and  Parliament. 

"  Ay!  was  it  even  so  ?"  replied  Lance.  "Nay,  then, 
if  they  begin  the  old  game  so  soon  again,  and  send  out 
warrants  in  the  King's  name  against  his  loyal  subjects, 
well  fare  our  stout  Knight,  say  I,  who  is  ready  to  take 
them  down  in  their  stocking-soles.  And  if  Bridgenorth 
takes  the  chase  after  us,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  have  a 
knock  at  him  for  one."' 

"  Why,  the  man,  hating  he  is  a  pestilent  Round- 
head and  Puritan,"  said  Whitaker,  "  is  no  bad  neigh- 
bour.    What  has  he  done  to  thee,  man  !" 


94  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK* 

"  He  has  poached  on  the  manor,"  answered  the 
keeper. 

"The  devil  he  has!"  replied  Whitaker.  Thou 
must  be  jesting,  Lance.  Bridgenorth  is  neither  hunter 
nor  hawker;  he  hath  not  so  much  of  honesty  in  him.'* 

"  Ay,  but  he  runs  after  game  you  little  think  of,  with 
his  sour,  melancholy  face,  that  would  scare  babes  and 
curdle  milk,"  answered  Lance. 

"  Thou  canst  not  mean  the  wenches  ?"  said  Whita- 
ker ;  u  why  he  hath  been  melancholy  mad  with  moping 
for  the  death  of  his  wife.  Thou  knowest  our  lady  took 
the  child,  for  fear  he  should  strangle  it  for  putting  him 
in  mind  of  its  mother,  in  some  of  his  tantrums.  Under 
her  favour,  and  among  friends,  there  are  many  poor  Ca- 
valiers' children,  that  care  would  be  better  bestowed 
upon — But  to  thy  tale." 

"  Why,  thus  it  runs,"  said  Lance.  "  I  think  you  may 
have  noticed,  Master  Whitaker,  that  a  certain  Mistress 
Deborah  hath  manifested  a  certain  favour  for  a  certain 
person  in  a  certain  household." 

"For thyself,  to  wit,"  answered  Whitaker;  "  Lance 
Outram,  thou  art  the  vainest  coxcomb — " 

"  Coxcomb  ?"  said  Lance  ;  "  why,  'twas  but  last 
night  the  whole  family  saw  her,  as  one  would  say,  fling 
herself  at  my  head." 

"  1  would  she  had  been  a  brick-bat  then,  to  have  bro- 
ken it,  for  thy  impertinence  and  conceit,"  said  the 
steward. 

"  Well,  but  do  but  hearken.  The  next  morning— 
that  is  this  very  blessed  morning — 1  thought  of  going  to 
lodge  a  buck  in  the  park,  judging  a  bit  of  venison  might 
be  wanted  in  the  larder,  after  yesterday's  wassail;  and, 
as  I  passed  under  the  nursery-window.  I  did  but  just 
look  up  to  see  what  madam  gouvernante  was  about: 
and  so  I  saw  her,  through  the  casement,  whip  on  her 
hood  and  scarf  as  soon  as  she  had  a  glimpse  of  me.  Im- 
mediately after  I  saw  the  still-room  door  open,  and 
made  sure  she  was  coming  through  the  garden,  and  so 
over  the  breach  and  down  to  the  park  ;  and  so,  thought 
I, '  Aha,  Mistress  Deb,  if  you  are  so  ready  to  dance  af- 
ter my  pipe  and  tabor,  I  will  give  you  a  couranto  beftiv 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK*         ^  9.5 

you  shall  come  up  with  me.5  And  so  I  went  down  Ivy- 
tod  Dingle,  where  the  copse  is  tangled,  and  the  ground 
swampy,  and  round  by  Haxley-bottom,  thinking  all  the 
while  she  was  following,  and  laughing  in  my  sleeve  at 
the  round  I  was  giving  her." 

"  You  deserved  to  be  ducked  for  it,"  said  Whitaker, 
i:  for  a  weather-headed  puppy  ;  but  what  is  all  this  Jack- 
a-lantern  story  to  Bridgenorth  ?" 

"  Why  it  was  all  along  of  he,  man,"  continued  Lance, 
"  that  is,  of  Bridgenorth,  that  she  did  not  follow  me — 
Gad,  1  first  walked  slow,  and  then  stopped,  and  then 
turned  back  a  little,  and  then  began  to  wonder  what  she 
had  made  of  herself,  and  to  think  I  had  borne  myself 
something  like  a  jack-ass  in  the  matter." 

"  That  I  deny,"  said  Whitaker,  "  never  jack-ass  but 
would  have  borne  him  better — but  go  on." 

"  Why,  turning  my  face  towards  the  Castle,  I  return- 
ed as  if  I  had  my  nose  bleeding,  when  just  by  the  Cope- 
ly  thorn,  which  stands,  you  know,  a  flight-shot  from  the 
postern-gate,  I  saw  Madam  Deb  in  close  conference 
with  the  enemy." 

"  What  enemy  ?"  said  the  steward. 

"  What  enemy  ?  Why,  who  but  Bridgenorth.  They 
kept  out  of  sight,  and  among  the  copse  ;  but,  thought  I, 
it  is  hard  if  I  cannot  stalk  you,  that  have  stalked  so  ma- 
ny bucks.  If  so,  I  had  better  give  my  shafts  to  be  pud- 
ding-pins. So  I  cast  round  the  thicket,  to  watch  their 
waters  ;  and,  may  I  never  bend  cross-bow  again,  if  I 
did  not  see  him  give  her  gold,  and  squeeze  her  by  the 
hand!" 

"And  was  that  all  you  saw  pass  between  them  ?" 
said  the  steward. 

"  Faith,  and  it  was  enough  to  dismount  me  from  my 
hobby,"  said  Lance.  "What?  when  I  thought  I  had 
the  prettiest  girl  in  the  Castle  dancing  after  my  whistle, 
lo  find  that  she  gave  me  the  bag  to  hold,  and  was  smug- 
gling in  a  corner  with  a  rich  old  Puritan  !" 
-  "  Credit  me,  Lance,  it  is  not  as  thou  thinkest,"  said 
Whitaker.  "  Bridgenorth  cares  not  for  these  amorous 
toys,  and  thou  thinkest  of  nothing  else.  But  it  is  tit- 
ling our  Knight  should  know  that  he  has  met  with  De- 


96  PEVERIL    OF   THE    PEAK. 

borah  in  secret,  and  given  her  gold  ;  for  never  Puritan 
gave  gold  yet,  but  it  was  earnest  for  some  devil's  work 
done,  or  to  be  done." 

"  Nay,  but,"  said  Lance,  "  I  would  not  be  such  a 
dog-bolt  as  to  go  and  betray  the  girl  to  our  master. 
She  hath  a  right  to  follow  her  fancy,  as  the  dame  said 
who  kissed  her  cow — only  I  do  not  much  approve  her 
choice,  that  is  all.  He  cannot  be  six  years  short  of 
fifty ;  and  a  verjuice  countenance,  under  the  pent-house 
o(  a  slouched  beaver,  and  bag  of  meagre  dried  bones, 
swaddled  up  in  a  black  cloak,  is  no  such  temptation, 
methinks." 

"I  tell  you  once  more,"  said  Whiiaker,  "you  are 
mistaken ;  and  that  there  neither  is,  nor  can  be,  any 
matter  of  love  between  them,  but  only  some  intrigue, 
concerning,  perhaps,  this  same  noble  Countess  of  Der- 
by. I  tell  thee,  it  behooves  my  master  to  know  it,  and 
I  will  presently  tell  it  to  him." 

So  saying,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  remonstrances  which 
Lance  continued  to  make  on  behalf  of  Mistress  Debo- 
rah, the  steward  rode  up  to  the  main  body  of  their 
little  party,  and  mentioned  to  the  Knight  and  the 
Countess  of  Derby  what  he  had  just  heard  from  the 
keeper,  adding  at  the  same  time  his  own  suspicions, 
that  Master  Bridgenorth  of  Moultrassie:Hall  was  desi- 
rous to  keep  up  some  system  of  espial  in  the  Castle  of 
Martindale,  either  in  order  to  secure  his  menaced  ven- 
geance on  the  Countess  of  Derby,  as  authoress  of  his 
brother-in-law's  death,  or  for  some  unknown,  but  pro- 
bably sinister  purpose. 

The  Knight  of  the  Peak  was  filled  with  high  resent- 
ment at  Whitaker's  communication.  According  to  his 
prejudices,  those  of  the  opposite  faction  were  supposed 
to  make  up  by  wit  and  intrigue  what  they  wanted  in 
open  force  ;  and  he  now  hastily  conceived  that  his 
neighbour,  whose  prudence  he  always  respected,  and 
sometimes  even  dreaded,  was  maintaining,  for  his  pri- 
vate purposes,  a  clandestine  correspondence  with  a 
member  of  his  family.  If  this  was  for  the  betrayal  of 
his  noble  guest,  it  argued  at  once  treachery  and  pre- 
sumption ;  or,  viewing  the  whole  as  Lance  had  done,  a 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  «M 

criminal  intrigue  with  a  woman  so  near  the  person  of 
Lady  Peveril,  was,  in  itself,  he  deemed,  a  piece  of 
sovereign  impertinence  and  disrespect  on  the  part  of 
such  a  person  as  Bridgenorth,  against  whom  Sir  Geof- 
frey's anger  was  kindled  accordingly. 

Whitaker  had  scarce  regained  his  post  in  the  rear, 
when  he  again  quitted  it,  and  galloped  to  the  main  body 
with  more  speed  than  before,  with  the  unpleasing  ti- 
dings that  they  were  pursued  by  half  a  score  of  horse- 
men, and  better. 

"  Ride  on  briskly  to  Hartley-nick,"  said  the  Knight. 
*:  and  there,  with  God  to  help,  we  will  bide  the  knaves. 
—Countess  of  Derby — one  word  and  a  short  one — 
Farewell ! — you  must  ride  forward  with  Whitaker  and 
another  careful  fellow,  and  let  me  alone  to  see  that  no 
one  treads  on  your  skirts." 

"  I  will  abide  with  you  and  stand  them,"  said  the 
Countess;  " you  know  of  old,  I  fear  not  to  look  on 
man's  work." 

"  You  must  ride  on,  madam,"  said  the  Knight,  u  for 
the  sake  of  the  young  Earle,  and  the  rest  of  my  noble 
friend's  family.  There  is  no  manly  work  toward,  which 
can  be  worth  your  looking  upon  ;  it  is  but  child's  play 
that  these  fellows  bring  with  them." 

As  she  yielded  a  reluctant  consent  to  continue  her 
flight,  they  reached  the  bottom  of  Hartley-nick,  a  pass 
very  steep  and  craggy,  and  where  the  road,  or  rather 
path,  which  had  hitherto  passed  over  more  open  ground, 
became  pent  up  and  confined  betwixt  copsewood  on  the 
one  sid§,  and  on  the  other  the  precipitous  bank  of  a 
mountain  stream. 

The  Countess  of  Derby,  after  an  affectionate  adieu 
to  Sir  Geoffrey,  and  having  requested  him  to  convey 
her  kind  commendations  to  her  little   page-elect  and 
his  mother,  proceeded  up  the  pass  at  a  roand  nace,  and.— 
with  her  attendants  and  escort,  was  sooinced   to  -ic'scut 
Immediately  after  she  had  disappears  to   oppose  them, 
came  up  with  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril,  >ls  presented;  but 
and  drawn  up  his  party  so  as  complefnerald,  commanded 
road  at  three  different  points.     _  iu  keep  the  peace. 

The  opposite  party  was  led 

vol..  i.  9 


98  PEVERIL    OP    THE     PEAK. 

pected,  by  Major  Bridgenorth.  At  his  side  was  a  per- 
son in  black,  with  a  silver  gray  hound  on  his  arm  ;  and 
he  was  followed  by  about  eijsht  or  ten  inhabitants  of  the 
Tillage  of  Martindait  -Moultrassie,  two  or  three  of  whom 
were  officers  of  the  peace,  and  others  were  personally 
known  to  Sir  Geoffrey  as  favourers  of  the  subverted 
government. 

As  the  party  rode  briskly  up.  Sir  Geoffrey  called  to 
them  to  halt;  and  as  they  continued  advancing,  he  or- 
dered his  own  people  to  present  their  pistols  and  cara- 
bines ;  and  after  assuming  that  menacing  attitude,  he 
repeated,  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  Halt,  or  we  fire  !" 

The  other  party  halted  accordingly,  and  Major 
Bridgenorth  advanced,  as  if  to  parley. 

"  Why,  how  now,  neighbour,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey,  as  if 
he  had  at  that  moment  recognised  him  for  the  firsfe 
time, — "  what  makes  you  ride  so  sharp  this  morning? 
Are  you  not  afraid  to  harm  your  horse,  or  spoil  your 
spurs  ? 

u  Sir  Geoffrey,"  said  the  Major,  "  I  have  no  time  fop 
jesting — I  am  on  the  King's  affairs." 

41  Are  you  sure  it  is  not  upon  Old  Noll's,  neighbour? 
You  used  to  hold  his  the  better  errand,"  said  the  Knight, 
with  a  smile,  which  gave  occasion  to  a  horse-laugh 
among  his  followers. 

"  Show  him  your  warrant,"  said  Bridgenorth  to  the 
man  in  black  formerly  mentioned,  who  was  a  pursui- 
vant. Then  taking  the  warrant  from  the  officer,  he 
gave  it  to  Sir  Geoffrey — "  To  this  at  least  you  will  pay 
regard." 

"  The  same  regard  which  you  would  have  paid  to  it 
a  month  back  or  so,"  said  the  Knight,  tearing  the  war- 
rant to  shreds.  "  What  a  plague  do  you  stare  at  ?  Do 
you  think  you  have  a  monopoly  of  rebellion,  and  that 
we  have  not  a.rifrht  to  show  a  trick  of  disobedience  in 

Sir  Geoffrey    Peveril,"  said   Bridge- 
will  compel   me   to  do  that  I  may  be 
^  this  matter  the  avenger  of  the  blood 
caints,  and  I  will  follow  the  chase 
an  arm  to  make  my  way." 


PEVEIUL    OF    THE    TEAK-  33 

n  You  shall  make  no  way  here,  but  at  your  peril,'- 
said  Sir  Geoffrey  ;  this  is  my  ground.  I  have  been  ha- 
rassed enough  for  these  twenty  years  by  saints,  as  you 
call  yourselves.  I  tell  you.  master,  you  shall  neither 
violate  the  security  of  my  house,  nor  pursue  my  friends 
over  the  grounds,  nor  tamper,  as  you  have  done, 
among  my  servants  with  impunity.  I  have  had  you 
in  respect  for  certain  kind  doings,  which  1  will  not 
either  forget  or  deny,  and  you  will  find  it  difficult  to 
make  me  draw  a  sword  or  bend  a  pistol  against  you, 
but  offer  any  hostile  movement,  or  presume  to  advance 
a  foot,  and  I  will  make  sure  of  you  presently.  And  for 
these  rascals,  who  come  hither  to  annoy  a  noble  lady 
on  my  bounds,  unless  you  draw  them  off,  1  will  pre- 
sently send  some  of  them  to  the  devil  before  their 
lime."" 

"  Make    room    at  your   proper   peril,*1    said   Major 
Bridgenorth  ;  and  he  put  his  right  hand  on  his  holster- 
pistol.     Sir  Geoffrey  closed  with  hirn    instantly,  seized 
him  by  the  collar,  and  spurred  Black  Hastings,  checking 
him  at  the  same  time,  so  that  the  horse   made  a  cour- 
bette,  and   brought  the  full  weight  of  his  chest  against 
the  counter  of  the   other.    A  ready  soldier   might,  in 
Bridgenorth's  situation,  have  rid  himself  of  his  adversa- 
ry with  a  bullet.     But  Bridgenorth's  courage,  notwith- 
standing his  having  served  some  time  with  the  Parlia- 
ment army,  was  rather  of  a  civil  than  a  military  charac- 
ter; and  he  was  inferior  to  his  adversary  not  only  in 
strength  and  horsemanship,   but  also  and  especially  in 
the  daring    and    decisive   resolution    which    made    Sir 
Geoffrey  thrust  himself  readily  into  personal   contest. 
While,   therefore,   they  tugged  and  grappled  together 
upon   terms    which   bore   such  little   accordance   with 
their  long  acquaintance  and  close  neighbourhood,  itvvas 
no  wonder  that  Bridgenorth  should   be  unhorsed  with 
much  violence.      While  Sir  Geoffrey  sprung  from  the 
saddle,  the   party  of   Bridgenorth  advanced   to    resent 
their  leader,  and  that  of  the    Knight  to   oppose  them. 
Swords  were  unsheathed,    and   pistols   presented  ;  but 
Sir  Geoffrey,   with  the   voice  of  a  herald,  commanded 
both  parties  to  stand  back,  and  to  keep  the  peace. 


100  PEVEBIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

The  pursuivant  took  the  hint,  and  easily  found  a  rea- 
son for  not  prosecuting  a  dangerous  duty .     "  The  war 
rant,"  he  said,  "  was  destroyed.     They  that  did  it  must 
be   answerable  to  the  Council ;  for  his  part,   he  could 
proceed  no  farther  without  his  commission." 

"  Well  said,  and  like  a  peaceable  fellow  !"  said  Sir 
Geoffrey. — "  Wbi taker,  let  him  have  refreshment  at 
the  Castle — his  nag  is  sorely  out  of  condition. — Come: 
neighbour  Bridgenorth,  get  up,  man — I  trust  you  have 
had  no  hurt  in  this  mad  affray  ?  I  was  loath  to  lay  hand 
on  you,  man,  till  you  plucked  out  your  petronel." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  aided  the  Major  to  rise.  The 
pursuivant,  meanwhile,  drew  aside  ;  and  with  him  the 
constable  and  head  borough,  who  were  not  without 
some  tacit  suspicion,  that  though  Peveril  was  interrupt- 
ing the  direct  course  of  law  in  this  matter,  yet  he  was 
likely  to  have  his  offence  considered  by  favourable, 
iudges  ;  and  therefore  it  might  be  as  much  for  their  in- 
terest and  safety  to  give  way  as  to  oppose  him.  But 
the  rest  of  the  party,  friends  of  Bridgenorth,  and  of  his 
principles,  kept  their  ground  notwithstanding  this  defec- 
tion, and  seemed,  from  their  looks,  sternly  determined 
to  rule  their  conduct  by  that  of  their  leader,  whatever 
it  might  be. 

But  it  was  evident  that  Bridgenorth  did  not  intend  to 
renew  the  struggle.  He  shook  himself  rather  roughly 
free  from  the  hands  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  ;  but  it  was 
not  to  draw  his  sword.  On  the  contrary,  he  mounted 
his  horse  with  a  sullen  and  dejected  air;  and.  making 
a  sign  to  his  followers,  turned  back  the  same  road  which 
he  had  come.  Sir  Geoffrey  looked  after  him  for  some 
minutes.  "Now.  there  goes  a  man,-'  said  he,  a  who 
would  have  been  a  right  honest  fellow  had  he  not  been 
a  Presbyterian.  But  there  is  no  heartiness  about  them 
— they  can  never  forgive  a  fair  fall  upon  the  sod — they 
bear  malice,  and  that  I  hate  as  I  do  a  black  cloak,  or 
a  Geneva  scull-cap,  and  a  pair  of  long  ears  rising  on 
each  side  omt,  like  two  chimneys  at  the  gable  ends  of  a 
thatched  cottage.  They  are  as  sly  as  the  devil  to  boot  ; 
and,  therefore,  Lance  Outram,  take  two  with  you  and 
keep  after  them,  that  they  may  not  turn  our  flank,  and 
wet  on  the  track  of  the  Countess  again,  after  all." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  101 

11  I  had  as  soon  they  should  course  my  lady's  white 
tame  doe,"  answered  Lance,  in  the  spirit  of  his  calling. 
He  proceeded  to  execute  his  master's  orders  by  dog- 
ging Major  Bridgenonh  at  a  distance,  and  observing  his 
course  from  such  heights  as  commanded  the  country. 
But  it  was  soon  evident  that  no  manoeuvre  was  intend- 
ed, and  that  the  Major  was  taking  the  direct  road  home- 
ward. When  this  was  ascertained.  Sir  Geoffrey  dis- 
missed most  of  his  followers;  and  retaining  only  his 
own  domestics,  rode  hastily  forward  to  overtake  the 
Countess. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  say  farther,  that  he  comple- 
ted his  purpose  of  escorting  the  Countess  of  Derby  to 
Vale  Royal,  without  meeting  any  farther  hinderance  by 
the  waj.  The  lord  of  the  mansion  readily  undertook  to 
conduct  the  high-minded  lady  to  Liverpool,  and  the 
task  of  seeing  her  safely  embarked  for  her  son's  heredi- 
tary dominions,  where  th"re  was  no  doubt  of  her  re- 
maining in  personal  safety  until  the  accusation  against 
her  for  breach  of  the  Royal  Indemnity,  by  the  execu- 
tion of  Christian,  could  be  brought  to  some  compro- 
mise. 

For  a  length  of  time  this  was  no  easy  matter.  Cla- 
rendon, then  at  the  head  of  Charles's  administration, 
considered  her  rash  action,  though  dictated  by  motives 
which  the  human  breast  must,  in  some  respect,  sympa- 
thize with,  as  calculated  to  shake  the  restored  tran- 
quillity of  E:i^!and.  by  exciting  the  doubts  and  jealousies 
of  those  who  had  to  apprehend  the  consequences  of 
what  is  called,  in  our  own  time,  a  reaction.  At  the 
same  time,  the  high  services  of  this  distinguished  family 
— the  merits  of  the  Countess  herself — the  memory  of 
her  gallant  husband — and  the  very  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  jurisdiction  which  took  the  case  out  of  all 
common  rules,  pleaded  strongly  in  her  favour;  and  the 
death  of  Christian  was  at  length  only  punished  by  the. 
imposition  of  a  heavy  tine,  amounting,  we  believe,  to 
many  thousand  pounds ;  which  was  levied,  with  great 
difficulty,  out  of  the  shattered  e&tateb  t>f  the  young 
Earl  of  Perby. 

9* 


*02  PEVERIL   OF    THE    PEAK* 


CHAPTER  Vllf. 


My  natire  land,  good  night ! 

Byron. 

Lady  Peveril  remained  in  no  small  anxiety  for  seve- 
ral hours  after  her  husband  and  the  Countess  had  de- 
parted from  Martindale  Castle  ;  more  especially  when 
she  learned  that  Major  Bridgenorth,  concerning  whose 
motions  she  made  private  inquiry,  had  taken  horse  with 
a  party,  and  was  gone  to  the  westward  in  the  same  di- 
rection with  Sir  Geoffrey. 

At  length  her  immediate  uneasiness  in  regard  to  the 
safety  of  her  husband  and  the  Countess  was  removed,  b) 
the  arrival  of  Whitaker,   with  her  husband's  commen- 
dations, and  an  account  of  the  scuffle  betwixt  himself 
and  Major  Bridgenorth. 

Lady  Peveril  shuddered  to  see  how  nearly  they  had 
approached  to  a  renewal  of  the  scenes  of  civil  discord  : 
and  while  she  was  thankful  to  Heaven  for  her  husband's 
immediate  preservation,  she  could  not  help  both  feel- 
ing regret  and  apprehension  for  the  consequences  of 
his  quarrel  with  Major  Bridgenorth.  They  had  now 
lost  an  old  friend,  who  had  showed  himself  such  under 
those  circumstances  of  adversity  by  which  friendship  is 
most  severely  tried  ;  and  she  could  not  disguise  from 
herself  that  Bridgenorth,  thus  irritated,  might  be  a  trou- 
blesome, if  not  a  dangerous  enemy.  His  rights  as  a 
creditor,  he  had  hitherto  used  with  gentleness  ;  and  il 
he  should  employ  rigour,  Lady  Peveril,  whose  atten- 
tion to  domestic  economy  had  made  her  much  better 
acquainted  with  her  husband's  affairs  than  he  was  him 
self,  foresaw  considerable  inconvenience  from  the  mea- 
sures which  the  law  put  in  his  power.  She  comforted 
Irerself  with  the  recollection,  however,  that  she  had 
still  a  strong  hold  on  Bridgenorth,  through  his  pa- 
ternal affection,  and  from  the  fixed  opinion  which  he 
had  hitherto  manifested,  that  his  daughters  health  could 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  103 

only  flourish  while  under  her  charge.  But  any  expec- 
tations of  reconciliation  which  Lady  Peveril  migh: 
probably  have  founded  on  this  circumstance,  were  frus- 
trated by  an  incident  which  took  place  in  the  course  of 
the  next  morning. 

The  governante,  Mistress  Deborah,  who  has  been  al- 
ready mentioned,  went  forth,  as  usual,  with  the  chil- 
dren, to  take  their  morning  exercise  in  the  Park,  attend- 
ed by  Rachel,  a  girl  who  acted  occasionally  as  her  assis- 
tant in  attending  upon  them.  But  not  as  usual  did  she 
return.  It  was  near  the  hour  of  breakfast,  when  Elles- 
mere,  with  an  unwonted  degree  of  primness  in  her 
mouth  and  manner,  came  to  acquaint  her  lady  that 
Misstress  Deborah  had  not  thought  proper  to  come  back 
from  the  park,  though  the  breakfast  hour  approached 
so  near. 

"  She  will  come,  then,  presently,"  said  Lady  Peveril. 
with  indifference. 

Ellesmere  gave  a  short  and  doubtful  cough,  and  then 
proceeded  to  say,  that  Rachel  had  been  sent  home 
with  little  Master  Julian,  and  that  Mistress  Deborah 
had  been  pieased  to  say,  she  would  walk  on  with 
Miss  Bridgenorth  as  far  as  Moultrassie  Holt ;  which 
was  a  point  at  which  the  property  of  the  Major,  as 
matters  now  stood,  bounded  that  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Pe- 
veril. 

'•  Is  the  wench  turned  silly,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  some- 
thing angrily,  "  that  she  does  not  obey  my  orders,  anci»g 
return  at  regular  hours  ?" 

u  She  may  be  turning  silly,"  said  Ellesmere,  myste- 
riously; 4i  or  she  may  be  turning  too  sly  :  and  I  think 
it  were  as  well  your  ladyship  looked  to  it." 

"Looked  to  what,  Ellesmere  ?"  said  the  lady,  im- 
patiently. "  You  are  strangely  oracular  this  morning. 
If  you  know  any  thing  to  the  prejudice  of  this  young 
woman,  I  pray  you  speak  it  out." 

•'  1  prejudice  !"  said  Ellesmere  ;  M  I  scorn  to  preju- 
dice man,  woman,  or  child,  in  the  way  of  a  fellow-ser- 
vant;  only  1  wish  your  ladyship  to  look  about  you,  and 
Use  your  own  eyes — that  is  all." 


»?% 


bid  me  use  my  own  eyes,  Ellesmere;  but  1 


184  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

suspect,"  answered  the  lady,  "  you  would  be  better 
pleased  were  I  contented  to  see  through  your  specta- 
cles. I  charge  you — and  you  know  1  will  be  obey- 
ed— I  charge  you  to  tell  me  what  you  know  or  suspect 
about  this  girl,  Deborah  Debbitch." 

"  I  see  through  spectacles  !"  exclaimed  the  indignant 
Abigail.  u  Your  ladyship  will  pardon  me  in  that,  for  1 
never  use  them,  unless  a  pair  that  belonged  to  my  poor 
mother,  that  1  put  on  when  your  ladyship  wants  your 
pinners  curiously  wrought.  No  woman  above  sixteen 
ever  did  white-seam  without  barnacles.  And  then  as  to 
suspecting.  I  suspect  nothing;  for  as  your  ladyship  hath 
taken  Mistress  Deborah  Debbitch  from  under  my  hand, 
to  be  sure  itis  neither  bread  nor  butter  of  mine.  Only," 
(here  she  began  to  speak  with  her  lips  shut,  so  as  scarce 
to  permit  a  sound  to  escape,  and  mincing  her  words  as 
if  she  pinched  off  the  ends  of  them  before  she  suffered 
them  to  escape) — '*  only,  madam,  if  distress  Deborah 
goes  so  often  of  a  morning  to  Moultrassie  Holt,  why  L 
should  not  be  surprised  if  she  should  never  find  the  way 
back  again." 

"  Once  more,  what  do  you  mean,  Ellesmere  ?  You 
were  wont  to  have  some  sense — let  me  know  distinctly 
what  the  matter  is." 

;i  Only,  madam,"  pursued  the  Abigail,  "  that  since 
Bridgenorth  came  back  from  Chesterrield,  and  saw  you 
at  the  Castle  Hal!,  .Mistress  Deborah  has  been  pleased 
to  carry  the  children  every  morning  to  that  place  ;  and 
it  has  so  happened  that  she  has  often  met  the  Major, 
as  they  call  him,  there  in  his  walks  :  for  he  can  walk 
about  now  like  other  folks ;  and  I  warrant  you  she  hath 
not  been  the  worse  of  the  meeting — one  way  at  least, 
for  she  hath  bought  a  new  hood  might  serve  yourself, 
madam ;  but  whether  she  hath  had  any  thing  in  hand 
besides  a  piece  of  money,  no  doubt  your  ladyship  is  best 
judge." 

Lady  Peveril,  who  readily  adopted  the  more  good- 
natured  construction  of  the  gouvernante-s  motives, 
Gould  not  help  la ug hung  at  the  idea  of  a  man  of  Bridge- 
north's  precise  appearance,   strict  principles,  and  re- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  105 

served  habits,  being  suspected  of  a  design  of  gallantry  \ 
and  readily  concluded,  that  Mistress  Deborah  had  found 
her  advantage  in  gratifying  his  parental  affection  by  a 
frequent  sight  of  his  daughter  during  the  few  days  which 
intervened  betwixt  his  first  seeing  little  Alice  at  the 
Castle,  and  the  events  which  had  followed.  But  she 
was  somewhat  Surprised,  when,  an  hour  after  the  usual 
breakfast  hour,  during  which  neither  the  child  nor  the 
keeper  appeared,  Major  Bridgenorth's  only  man-ser- 
vant arrived  at  the  Castle  on  horseback,  dressed  as  for 
a journey;  and  having  delivered  a  letter  adressed  to 
herself,  and  another  to  Mistress  Ellesmere,  rode  away 
without  waiting  any  answer. 

There  would  have  been  nothing  remarkable  in  this, 
had  any  other  person  been  concerned  ;  but  Major 
Bridgenorth  was  so  very  quiet  and  orderly  in  all  his 
proceedings — so  little  liable  to  act  hastily  or  by  impulse, 
that  the  least  appearance  of  bustle  where  he  was  con- 
cerned, excited  surprise  and  curiosity. 

Lady  Peveril  broke  her  letter  hastily  open,  and  found 
that  it  contained  the  following  lines  : 

•'*  For  the  Hands  of  the  Honourable  and  Honoured  Lady 
Peveril — These  : 

•'  Madam — Please  it  your  Ladyship, 

"  I  write  more  to  excuse  myself  to  your  ladyship, 
than  to  accuse  either  you  or  others,  in  respect  that  I 
am  sensible  it  becomes  our  frail  nature  better  to  con- 
f  fess  our  own  imperfections,  than  to  complain  of  those 
of  others.  Neither  do  1  mean  to  speak  of  past  times, 
particularly  in  respect  of  your  worthy  lad\ship,  bein^c 
sensible  that  if  I  have  served  you  in  that  period  when 
our  Israel  might  be  called  triumphant,  }ou  have  more 
than  requited  me,  in  giving  to  my  arms  a  child,  redeem- 
ed, as  it  were,  from  the  vale  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
And,  therefore,  as  I  heartily  forgive  to  your  ladyship 
the  unkind  and  violent  measure  which  you  dealt  to  mt 
at  our  last  meeting,  (seeing  that  the  woman  who  was 
the  cause  of  strife  is  accounted  one  of  your  kindred  and 
people.)  I  do  entreat  you,  in  like  manner,  to  pardon  im 


106  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

enticing  away  from  your  service  the  young  woman 
called  Deborah  Debbitch.  whose  nurture,  instructed  as 
she  hath  been  under  your  ladyship's  direction,  is,  it  may 
be,  indispensable  to  the  health  of  my  dearest  child.  I 
had  purposed  madam,  with  your  gracious  permission, 
that  Alice  should  have  remained  at  Martindale  Castle, 
under  your  kind  charge,  until  she  could  so  far  discern 
betwixt  good  and  evil,  that  it  should  be  matter  of  con- 
science to  teach  her  the  way  in  which  she  should  go. 
For  it  is  not  unknown  to  your  ladyship,  and  in  no  way 
do  I  speak  it  reproachfully,  but  rather  sorrowfully,  that  a 
person  so  excellently  gifted  as  yourself— F  mean  touch- 
ing natural  qualities — has  not  yet  received  that  true  light, 
which  is  a  lamp  to  the  paths,  but  are  contented  to  stum- 
ble in  darkness,  and  among  the  graves  of  dead  men.  It 
has  been  my  prayer  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  that  your 
ladyship  should  cease  from  the  doctrine  which  causeth  to 
err;  but  I  grieve  to  say,  that  our  candlestick  being  about 
to  be  removed,  the  land  will  most  likely  be  involved  in 
deeper  darkness  than  ever ;  and  the  return  of  the  King, 
to  which  1  and  many  looked  forward  as  a  manifestation 
of  divine  favour,  seems  to  prove  little  else  than  a  per- 
mitted triumph  of  the  Prince  of  the  Air,  who  setteth 
about  to  restore  his  Vanity-fair  of  bishops,  deans,  and 
such  like,  excluding  the  peaceful  ministers  of  the  word, 
whose  labours  have  proved  faithful  to  many  hungry 
souls.  So.  hearing  from  a  sure  hand,  that  commission 
has  gone  forth  to  restore  these  dumb  dogs,  the  follow- 
ers of  Laud  and  of  Williams,  who  were  cast  forth  by 
the  late  Parliament,  and  that  an  Act  of  Conformity,  or1 
rather,  of  deformity  of  worship,  was  to  be  expected,  it 
is  my  purpose  to  fly  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  to 
seek  some  corner  where  1  may  dwell  in  peace,  and  en- 
joy liberty  of  conscience.  For  who  would  abide  in 
the  sanctuary,  after  the  carved  work  thereof  is  broken 
down,  and  when  it  hath  been  made  a  place  for  owls, 
and  satyrs  of  the  wilderness  ? — And  herein  I  blame  my- 
self, madam,  that  I  went  in  the  singleness  of  my  heart 
too  readily  into  that  carousing  in  the  house  of  feasting, 
wherein  my  love  of  union,  and  my  desire  tashow  re- 
spect to  your  ladyship,  were  made  a  snare  to  me.   But 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  107 

I  trust  it  will  be  an  atonement,  that  I  am  now  about  to 
absent  myself  trom  the  place  of  my  birth,  and  the  house 
of  my  fathers,  as  well  a?  from  the  place  which  holdeth 
the  dust  of  those  pledges  of  my  affection.  I  have  also 
to  remember,  that  in  this  land  my  honour,  (after  the 
worldly  estimation)  hath  been  abated,  and  my  utility 
circumscribed,  by  your  husband,  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  3 
and  that  without  any  chance  of  my  obtaining  reparation 
at  his  hands,  whereby  1  may  say  the  hand  of  a  kins- 
man was  lifted  up  against  my  credit  and  my  life.  These 
things  are  bitter  to  the  taste  of  the  old  Adam  ;  where- 
fore, to  prevent  farther  bickerings,  and,  it  may  be, 
bloodshed,  it  is  better  that  I  leave  this  land  for  a  time. 
The  affairs  which  remain  to  be  settled  between  Sir 
Geoffrey  and  myself,  I  shall  place  in  the  hand  of  the 
righteous  Master  Joachim  Win-the-Fight,  an  attorney 
in  Chester,  who  will  arrange  them  with  such  attention 
to  Sir  Geoffrey's  convenience,  as  justice,  and  the  due 
exercise  of  the  law,  will  permit;  for,  $s  I  trust  I  shall 
have  grace  to  resist  the  temptation  to  make  the  wea- 
pons of  carnal  warfare  the  instruments  of  my  revenge, 
so  I  scorn  to  effect  it  through  the  means  of  Mammon. 
Wishing,  madam  that  the  Lord  may  grant  you  every 
blessing,  and  in  especial,  that  which  is  over  all  others, 
namely,  the  true  knowledge  of  His  way, 
44  f  remain,  1 
"  Your  devoted  servant  to  command, 

Ralph  Bridgenorth. 
I  Written  at  JWoultrassie-Hall '.  this  tenth 
day  of  July,  1660." 


o  soon  as  Lady  Peveril  had  perused  this  long  and 
singular  homily,  in  which  it  seemed  to  her  that  her 
neighbour  showed  more  spirit  of  religious  fanaticism 
lhan  she  could  have  supposed  him  possessed  of,  she 
looked  up  and  beheld  Ellesmere. — with  a  countenance 
in  which  mortification,  and  an  affected  air  of  contempt, 
seemed  to  struggle  together, — who,  tired  with  watching 
the  expression  of  her'  mistress's  countenance,  applied 
for  confirmation  of  her  suspicions  in  plain  terms. 
"  I  suppose,  madam,"  said  the  waiting  woman,  "  the 


108  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK. 

fanatic  fool  intends  to  marry  the  wench?  They  say  he 
goes  to  shift  the  country.  Truly  it's  time,  indeed  ;  for 
besides  that  the  whole  neighbourhood  would  laugh  him 
to  scorn.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  Lance  Outram, 
the  keeper,  gave  him  a  buck's  head  to  bear;  for  that  is 
all  in  the  way  of  his  office." 

"  There  is  no  great  occasion  for  your  spite  at  pre- 
sent, Ellesmere,"  replied  her  lady.  "  My  letter  says 
nothing  of  marriage  ;  but  it  would  appear  that  Master 
Bridgenorth,  being  to  leave  this  country,  has  engaged 
Deborah  to  take  care  of  his  child ;  and  I  am  sure  I  am 
heartily  glad  of  it.  for  the  infant's  sake." 

"  And  1  am  glad  of  it  for  my  own,"  said  Ellesmere : 
;i  and,  indeed,  for  the  sake  of  the  whole  house.- — And 
your  ladyship  thinks  she  is  not  like  to  be  married  to 
him  ?  Troth  I  could  never  see  how  he  should  be  such 
an  idiot;  but  perhaps  she  is  going  to  do  worse,  for  she 
speaks  here  of  coming  to  high  preferment,  and  that 
scarce  comes  b^  honest  servitude  now-a-days  ;  thenshe 
writes  me  about  sending  her  things,  as  if  I  were  mis- 
tress of  the  wardrobe  to  her  ladyship — ay,  and  recom- 
mends Master  Julian  to  the  care  of  my  age  and  expe- 
rience, forsooth,  as  if  she  needed  to  recommend  the 
dear  little  jewel  to  me  ;  and  then,  to  speak  of  my  age 
■ — But  I  will  bundle  away  her  rags  to  the  Hall,  with  a 
witness  !" 

"Do  it  with   all  civility,"  said  the  lady,  "  and  let 
Whitaker  send  her  the  wages  for  which  she  has  served, 
and  a  broad-piece  over  and  above  ;  for,  though  a  light 
headed  young  woman,  she  was  kind  to  the  children."' 

"  I  know  who  is  kind  to  their  servants,  madam,  aj 
would  spoil  the  best  ever  pinned  a  gown." 

"  I  spoiled  a  good  one,  Ellesmere,  when  I  spoiled 
thee,"  said  the  lady;  but  tell  Mistress  Deborah  to  kiss 
1-he  little  Alice  for  me,  and  to  offer  my  good  wishes  to 
Major  Bridgenorth,  for  his  temporal  and  future  happi- 
ness." 

She  permitted  no  further  observation  or  reply,  but 
dismissed  her  attendant,  without  entering  into  farther 
particulars. 

When   Ellesmere  had  withdrawn,  Lady  Peveril  be- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  1  Of' 

gan  to  reflect,  with  much  feeling  of  compassion,  on  the 
letter  of  Major  Bridgenorth ;  a  person  in  whom  there 
were  certainly  many  excellent  qualities,  but  whom  a 
series  ol  domestic  misfortunes,  and  the  increasing  gloom 
of  a  sincere,  yet  stern  feeling  of  devotion,  rendered 
lonely  and  unhappy;  and  she  had  more  than  one 
mxious  thought  for  the  happiness  of  the  little  Alice- 
brought  up,  as  she  was  likely  to  be,  under  such  a  father. 
Still  the  removal  of  Bridgenorth  was,  on  the  whole,  a 
desirable  event:  for  while  he  remained  at  the  Hall,  it 
was  but  too  likely  that  some  accidental  collision  with 
Sir  Geoffrey  might  give  rise  to  a  rencontre  betwixv 
ihem,  more  fatal  than  the  last  had  been,  contrary  to  her 
wishes. 

In  the  meanwhile,  she  could  not  help  expressing  to 
Doctor  Dummerar  her  surprise  and  sorrow,  that  all 
which  he  had  done  and  attempted,  to  establish  peace 
ind  unanimity  betwixt  the  contending  factions,  had 
been  perversely  fated  to  turn  out  the  very  reverse  of 
what  she  had  aimed  at.  / 

':  But  for  my  unhappy  invitation,"'  she  said,  "  Bridge- 
north  would  not  have  been  at  the  Castle  on  the  morn- 
ing which  succeeded  the  feast,  would  not  have  seen  the 
Countess,  and  would  not  have  incurred  the  resentment 
and'opposition  of  my  husband.  And  but  for  the  King's 
return,  an  event  which  was  so  anxiously  expected  as  the 
ermination  of  all  our  calamities,  neither  the  noble 
lady  nor  ourselves  had  been  engaged  in  this  new  path 
of  difficulty  and  danger." 

"  Honoured  madam,"  said  Doctor  Dummerar,  "were 
the  affairs  of  this  world  to  be  guided  implicitly  by  hu- 
man wisdom,  or  were  they  uniformly  to  fall  out  ac- 
cording to  the  conjectures  of  human  wisdom,  or 
were  they  uniformly  to  fall  out  according  to  the 
conjectures  of  human  foresight,  events  would  no 
longer  be  under  the  domination  of  that  time  and 
chance,  which  happen  unto  all  men,  since  we  should, 
in  the  one  case,  work  out  our  own  purposes  to 
a  certainty,  by  our  own  skill,  and  in  the  other,  regulate 
our-conduct  according  to  the  views  of  unerring  presci- 
ence. But  man  is,  while  in  this  vale  of  tears,  like  an 
vol.  i.  10 


1 10  PEVERIL   OF    THE    PEAK. 

uninstrucled  bowler,  so  to  speak,  who  thinks  to  attain 
the  jack  by  delivering  his  bowl  straight  forward  upon 
it,  being  ignorant  that  there  is  a  concealed  bias  within 
the  spheroid,  which  will  make  it,  in  all  probability, 
swerve  away,  and  lose  the  cast.5' 

Having  spoken  this  with  a  sententious  air,  the  Doc- 
tor took  his  shovel-shaped  hat,  and  went  down  to  the 
Castle  green,  to  conclude  a  match  of  bowls  with  Whita- 
ker,  which  had  probably  suggested  this  notable  illustra- 
tion of  the  uncertain  course  of  human  events. 

Two  days  afterward,  Sir  Geoffrey  arrived.  He  had 
waited  at  Vale  Royal  till  he  heard  of  the  Countess's 
being  safely  embarked  for  Man,  and  then  had  posted 
homewards  to  his  Castle  and  Dame  Margaret.  On  his 
way,  he  learned  from  some  of  his  attendants,  the  mode 
in  which  his  lady  had  conducted  the  entertainment 
which  she  had  given  to  the  neighbourhood  at  his  order  ; 
and  notwithstanding  the  great  deference  he  usually- 
showed  in  cases  where  Lady  Peveril  was  concerned,  he 
heard  of  her  liberality  towards  the  Presbyterian  party 
with  great  indignation. 

"  1  could  have  admitted  Bridgenorth,"  he  said,  "  for 
he  always  bore  him  in  neighbourly  and  kindly  fashion 
till  this  last  career — I  could  have  endured  him,  so  he 
would  have  drunk  the  King's  health,  like  a  true  man — 
but  to  bring  that  snuffling  scoundrel  Solsgrace,  with  all 
his  beggarly  long-eared  congregation,  to  hold  a  conven- 
ticle in  my  father's  house — to  let  them  domineer  it  as 
they  listed — why,  I  would  not  have  permitted  them 
such  liberty  when  they  held  their  head  the  highest! 
They  never,  in  the  worst  of  times,  found  any  way  into 
Martindale  Castle  but  what  Noll's  cannon  made  for 
them  ;  and,  that  they  should  come  and  cant  there, 
when  good  King  Charles  is  returned — By  my  hand. 
Dame  Margaret  shall  hear  of  it !" 

But  notwithstanding  these  ireful  resolutions,  resent- 
ment altogether  subsided  in  the  honest  Knight's  breast 
when  he  saw  the  fair  features  of  his  lady  lightened  with 
affectionate  joy  at  his  return  in  safety.  As  he  took  her 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  he  forgave  her  ere  he  men- 
tioned her  offence. 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  HI 

*•  Thou  hast  played  the  knave  with  me,  Meg,5'  he 
said,  shaking  his  head,  and  smiling  at  the  same  time, 
and  thou  knowest  in  what  matter;  but  I  think  thou  an 
true  churchwoman,  and  didst  only  act  from  some  silly 
womanish  fancy  of  keeping  fair  with  these  roguish 
Roundheads.  But  let  me  have  no  more  of  this.  I  had 
rather  Martindale  Castle  were  again  rent  by  their  bul- 
lets, than  receive  any  of  the  knaves  in  the  way  of 
friendship — I  always  except  Ralph  Bridgenorth  of  the 
Hall,  if  he  should  come  to  his  senses  again." 

Lady  Peveril  was  here  under  the  necessity  of  ex- 
plaining what  she  had  heard  of  Master  Bridgenorth — 
the  disappearance  of  the  gouvernante  with  his  daugh- 
ter, and  placed  Bridgenorth's  letter  in  his  hand.  Sir 
Geoffrey  shook  his  head  at  first,  and  then  laughed  ex- 
tremely, at  the  idea  that  there  was  some  little  love- 
intrigue  between  Bridgenorth  and  Mistress  Deborah. 

"  It  is  the  true  end  of  a  dissenter,"  he  said,  "  to  mar- 
ry his  own  maid-servant,  or  some  other  person's.  De- 
borah is  a  good  likely  wench,  and  on  the  merrier  side 
of  thirty,  as  I  should  think." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  the  Lady  Peveril,  "  you  are  as  un- 
charitable as  Ellesmere — I  believe  it  bur  to  be  affec- 
tion to  his  child." 

"  Psha  !  psha  !"  answered  the  Knight,  "  women  are 
eternally  thinking  of  children  ;  but  among  men,  dame, 
many  one  caresses  the  infant  that  he  may  kiss  the 
keeper;  and  where's  the  wonder  or  the  harm  either, 
if  Bridgenorth  should  marry  the  wench  ?  Her  father  is 
a  substantial  yeoman  ;  his  family  has  had  the  same  farm 
since  Bosworth-freld — as  good  a  pedigree  as  that  of 
the  great-grandson  of  a  Chesterfield  brewer,  1  trow. 
But  let  us  hear  what  he  says  for  himself — I  shall  speU 
it  out  if  there  is  any  roguery  in  the  letter  about  lovo 
and  liking,  though  it  might  escape  your  innocence 
Dame  Margaret." 

The  Knight  of  the  Peak  began  to  peruse  the  letter 
accordingly,  but  was  much  embarrassed  by  the  peculiar 
language  in  which  it  was  couched.  "  What  he  means 
by  moving  Of  candlesticks,  and  breaking  down  of  car- 
ved work  in  the  church,  I  cannot  guess ;  unless  he 
means  to  bring  back  the  large  silver  candlesticks  which 


ill  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

my  grandsire  gave  to  be  placed  on  the  altar  at  Marti n- 
dale-Moultrassie  ;  and  which  his  crop-eared  friends, 
like  sacrilegious  villains  as  they  are,  stole  and  melted 
down.  And  in  like  manner,  the  only  breaking  I  know 
of,  was  when  they  pulled  down  the  rails  of  the  com- 
munion table,  (for  which  some  of  their  fingers  are  hot 
enough  by  this  time,)  and  when  the  brass  ornaments 
were  torn  down  from  the  Peveril  monuments;  and  that 
was  breaking  and  removing  with  a  vengeance.  How- 
ever, dame,  the  upshot  is,  that  poor  Bridgenorth  is 
going  to  leave  the  neighbourhood.  I  am  truly  sorry  for 
it,  though  I  never  saw  him  oftener  than  once  a-day. 
and  never  spoke  to  him  above  two  words.  But  I  see 
how  it  is — that  little  shake  by  the  shoulder  sticks  in 
his  stomach  ;  and  yet,  Meg,  I  did  but  lift  him  out  oi 
the  saddle  as  I  might  have  lifted  thee  into  it,  Margaret 
— 1  was  careful  not  to  hurt  him  ;  and  I  did  not  think 
him  so  tender  in  point  of  honour  as  to  mind  such  a 
thing  much  ;  but  I  see  plainly  where  his  sore  lies  ;  and 
{  warrant  you  I  will  manage  that  he  stays  at  the  HalL 
and  that  you  get  back  Julian's  little  companion.  Faith. 
I  am  sorry  myself  at  the  thought  of  losing  the  baby, 
and  of  having  to  choose  another  ride  when  it  is  not 
hunting  weather,  than  round  by  the  Hall,  with  a  word 
at  the  window." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,  Sir  Geoffrey,"  said  Lady  Pe- 
veril, "that  you  could  come  to  a  reconciliation  with  this 
worthy  man,  for  such  I  must  hold  Bridgenorth  to  be." 

"  But  for  his  dissenting  principles,  as  good  a  neigh- 
bour as  ever  lived,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey. 

"  But  I  scarce  see,"  continued  the  lady,  "  any  possi- 
bility of  bringing  about  a  conclusion  so  desirable." 

"Tush,  dame,"  answered  the  Knight;  "  thou  know- 
est  little  of  such  matters.  I  know  the  foot  he  halts 
upon,  and  you  shall  see  him  go  as  sound  as  ever." 

Lady  Peveril  had,  from  her  sincere  affection  and 
sound  sense,  as  good  a  right  to  claim  the  full  confi- 
dence of  her  husband,  as  any  woman  in  Derbyshire  ; 
and,  upon  this  occasion,  to  confess  the  truth,  she  had 
more  anxiety  to  know  his  purpose  than  her  sense  of 
fhe.r  mutual  and  separate  duties  permitted  her  in  gene- 
ral  to  entertain.     She  could  not  imagine  what  mode  of 


TEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  113 

reconciliation  with  his  neighbour,  Sir  Geoffrey  (no 
very  acute  judge. of  mankind  or  their  peculiarities) 
could  have  devised  which  might  not  be  disclosed  to 
her;  and  she  felt  some  secret  anxiety  lest  the  means 
resorted  to  might  be  so  ill  chosen  as  to  render  the 
breach  rather  wider.  But  Sir  Geoffrey  would  give  no 
opening  for  further  inquiry.  He  had  been  long  enough 
colonel  of  a  regiment  abroad,  to  value  himself  on  the 
right  of  absolute  command  at  home;  and  to  all  the 
hints  which  his  lady's  ingenuity  could  devise  and  throw 
out,  he  only  answered,  "Patience,  Dame  Margaret, 
patience.  This  is  no  case  for  thy  handling.  Thou 
shalt  know  enough  on't  by  and  by,  dame. — Go  look  to 
Julian.  Will  the  boy  never  have  done  crying  for  lack 
of  that  little  sprout  of  a  Roundhead  ?  But  we  will  have 
little  Alice  back  with  us  in  two  or  three  days,  and  all 
will  be  well  again.'" 

As  the  good  Knight  spoke  these  words,  a  post  wind- 
ed his  horn  in  the  court,  and  a  large  packet  was  brought 
in,  addressed  to  the  worshipful  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril, 
justice  of  the  peace,  and  so  forth  ;  for  he  had  been 
placed  in  authority  so  soon  as  the  King's  Restoration 
was  put  upon  a  settled  basis.  Upon  opening  the  pack- 
et, which  he  did  with  no  small  feeling  of  importam  e,  he 
found  that  it  contained  the  warrant  which  he  had  soli- 
cited for  replacing  Doctor  Dummerarin  the  parish  from 
which  he  had  been  forcibly  ejected  during  the  usurpa- 
tion. 

Few  incidents  could  have  given  more  delight  to  Sir 
Geoffrey.  He  could  forgive  a  stout  able-bodied  secta- 
ry or  non-conformist,  who  enforced  his  doctrines  in  the 
field  by  downright  blows  on  the  casques  and  cuirasses  of 
himself  and  other  Cavaliers.  But  he  remembered,  with 
most  vindictive  accuracy,  the  triumphant  entrance  of 
Kugh  Peters  through  the  breach  of  his  Castle  ;  and  for 
his  sake,  witliout  nicely  distinguishing  betwixt  sects  or 
their  teachers,  he  ht-ld  all  who  mounted  a  pulpit  with- 
out warrant  from  the  Church  of  England — perhaps  he 
might  also  in  private  except  that  of  Rome — to  be  dis- 
turbers of  the  pub'ic  tranquillity — seducers  of  the  con- 
gregation from  their  lawful  preachers — instigators  of 

10* 


1 14-  TEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

the  late  Civil  War — and  men  well  disposed  to  risk  the 
fate  of  a  new  one. 

Then,  on  the  other  hand,  besides  gratifying  his  dis- 
like to  Solsgrace,  he  saw  much  gratification  in  the  task 
of  replacing  his  old  friend  and  associate  in  sport  and  in 
danger,  the  worthy  Doctor  Dummerar,  in  his  legitimate 
rights,  and  in  the  ease  and  comforts  of  his  vicarage.  He 
communicated  the  contents  of  the  packet,  with  great 
triumph,  to  the  lady,  who  now  perceived  the  sense  of 
the  mysterious  paragraph  in  Major  Bridgenorth's  letter, 
concerning  the  removal  of  the  candlestick,  and  the  ex- 
tinction of  light  and  doctrine  in  the  land.  She  pointed 
out  this  to. Sir  Geoffrey,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade 
him  that  a  door  was  now  opened  to  reconciliation  with 
his  neighbour,  by  executing  the  commission  which  he 
had  received  in  an  easy  and  moderate  manner,  after  due 
delay,  and  with  all  respect  to  the  feelings  both  of  Sols- 
grace  and  his  congregation,  which  circumstances  admit- 
ted of.  This,  the  lady  argued,  would  be  doing  no  inju- 
ry whatsoever  to  Doctor  Dummerar ; — nay,  might  be 
the  means  of  reconciling  many  to  his  ministry  who  might 
otherwise  be  disgusted  with  it  for  ever,  by  the  prema- 
ture expulsion  of  a  favourite  preacher. 

There  was  much  wisdom,  as  uell  as  moderation, 
in  this  advice  ;  and  at  another  time,  Sir  Geoffrey 
would  have  had  sense  enough  to  have  adopted  it.  But 
who  can  act  composedly  or  prudently  in  the  hour  of  tri- 
umph f  The  ejection  of  Mr.  Solsgrace  was  so  hastily 
executed,  as  to  give  it  some  appearance  of  persecution; 
though,  more  justly  considered,  it  was  the  restoring  of 
his  predecessor  to  his  legal  rights.  Solsgrace  himself 
seemed  to  be  desirous  to  make  his  sufferings  as  mani- 
fest as  possible.  He  held  out  to  the  last ;  and  on  the 
Sabbath  after  he  had  received  intimation  of  his  ejec- 
tion, attempted  to  make  his  way  to  the  pulpit,  as  usual. 
supported  by  Master  Bridgenorth's  attorney,  VVin-tbe- 
Fight,  and  a  few  zealous  followers. 

Just  as  this  party  came  into  the  churchyard  on  the 
one  side,  Dr.  Dummerar,  dressed  in  full  pontificals,  in 
a  sort  of  triumphal  procession,  accompanied  by  Peveril 
of  the  Peak,  Sir  Jasper  Cranboume,  and  other  Cava- 
liers of  distinction,  entered  at  the  other. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PSA*.  115 

To  prevent  an  actual  struggle  in  the  church,  the  pa- 
rish-officers were  sent  to  prevent  the  farther  approach 
of  the  Presbyterian  minister  ;  which  was  effected  with- 
out further  damage  than  a  broken  head,  inflicted  by 
Roger  Raine,  the  drunken  inn-keeper  of  the  Peveril 
arms,  upon  the  Presbyterian  attorney  of  Chesterfield. 

Unsubdued  in  spirit,  though  compelled  to  retreat  by 
superior  force,  the  undaunted  Mr.  Solsgrace  retired  to 
the  vicarage  ;  where,  under  some  legal  pretext  which 
had  been  started  by  iMr.  Win-the-Fight,  (in  that  day  un- 
aptly named,)  he  attempted  to  maintain  himself — bolt- 
ed gates — barred  windows — and,  as  report  said,  (though 
falsely.)  made  provisions  of  fire-arms  to  resist  the  offi- 
cers. A  scene  of  clamour  and  scandal  accordingly  took 
place,  which  being  reported  to  Sir  Geoffrey,  he  came 
in  person,  with  some  of  his  attendants  carrying  arms — 
forced  the  outer-gate  and  inner-doors  of  the  house  ;  and 
proceeding  to  the  study,  found  no  other  garrison  save 
the  Presbyterian  parson,  with  the  attorney,  who  gave 
up  possession  of  the  premises,  after  making  protestation 
agamst  the  violence  that  had  been  used. 

The  rabble  of  the  village  being  by  this  time  all  in 
motion,  Sir  Geoffrey,  both  in  prudence  and  in  good  na- 
ture, saw  the  propriety  of 'escorting  his  prisoners,  for 
so  they  might  be  termed,  safely  through  the  tumult; 
and  accordingly  conveyed  them  in  person,  through 
much  noise  and  clamour,  as  far  as  the  avenue  of  Moul- 
trassie-Hail,  which  they  chose  for  the  place  of  their 
retreat. 

But  the  absence  of  Sir  Geoffrey  gave  way  to  some 
disorders,  which,  if  present,  he  would  assuredly  have  re- 
strained. Some  of  the  minister's  books  were  torn  and 
flung  about  as  treasonable  and  seditious  trash,  by  the 
zealous  parish-officers  or  their  assistants.  A  quantity 
of  his  ale  was  drunken  up  in  healths  to  the  King,  and 
Peveril  of  the  Peak.  And  finally,  the  boys  who  bore 
the  ex-parson  no  good  will  for  his  tyrannical  interfe- 
rence with  their  games  at  skittles,  foot-ball,  and  so  forth, 
ana,  moreover,  remembered  the  unmerciful  length  of 
his  sermons,  dressed  up  an  effigy  with  his  Geneva  gown 
and  band,  and  his  steeple-crowned  hat,  which  they  pa- 
raded through  the  village,  and  burnt  on  the  spot  whilom 


1 16  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

occupied  by  a  stately  May-pole,  which  Solsgrace  had 
formerly  hewed  down  with  his  own  reverend  hands. 

Sir  Geoffrey  was  vexed  at  all  this,  and  sent  to  Mr, 
Solsgrace,  offering  satisfaction  for  the  goods  which  he 
had  lost;  but  the  Calvinistical  divine  replied,  "From  a 
thread  to  a  shoe-latchet,  I  will  not  take  any  thing  that 
is  thine.  Let  the  shame  of  the  work  of  thy  hands  abide 
with  thee." 

Considerable  scandal  indeed  arose  against  Sir  Geof- 
frey Peveril,  as  having  proceeded  with  indecent  severity 
and  baste  upon  this  occasion ;  and  rumour  look  care 
to  make  the  usual  additions  to  the  reality.  It  was  cur- 
rently reported,  that  the  desperate  Cavalier,  Peveril  of 
the  Peak,  had  fallen  on  a  Presbyterian  congrega- 
tion, while  engaged  in  the  peaceable  exercise  of  religion, 
with  a  band  of  armed  men — bad  slain  some,  wounded 
desperately  many  more,  and  finally  pursued  the  preach- 
er to  his  vicarage,  which  he  burnt  to  the  ground.  Some 
alleged  the  clergyman  had  perished  in  the  flames:  and 
the  most  mitigated  report  bore,  that  he  had  only  been 
able  to  escape,  by  disposing  his  gown,  cap,  and  band, 
near  a  window,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  deceive  them 
with  the  idea  of  his  person  being  surrounded  by  flames, 
while  he  himself  escaped  byTtbe  back  part  of  the  house. 
And  although  few  people  believed  in  the  extent  of  the 
atrocities  thus  imputed  to  our  honest  Cavalier,  yet  still 
enough  of  obloquy  attached  to  him  to  infer  very  serious 
consequences,  as  the  reader  will  learn  at  a  future  period 
of  our  history. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Bessus.  Tis  a  challenge,  sir,  is  it  not  ? 
Genlltman.   'Tis  an  inviting  to  the  field. 

King  and  JYo  A  < 

For  a  day  or  two  after  his  forcible  expulsion  from 
the  vicarage,  Mr.  Solsgrace  continued  his  residence  at 
Moultrassie-Hall,  where  the  natural  melancholy  at- 
tendant on  his  situation;  added  to  the  gloom  of  the  owner 


PEYERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  117 

of  the  rffimsion.  In  the  morning  the 'ejected  divine 
made  excursions  to  different  families  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, to  whom  his  ministry  had  been  acceptable  in  the 
days  of  his  prosperity,  and  from  whose  grateful  recol- 
lections of  that  period  he  now  found  sympathy  and  con- 
solation. He  did  not  require  to  be  condoled  with,  be- 
cause he  was  deprived  of  an  easy  and  competent  main- 
tenance, and  thrust  out  upon  the  common  of  life,  after 
he  had  reason  to  suppose  he  would  be  no  longer  liable 
to  such  mutations  of  fortune.  The  piety  of  Mr.  Sols- 
grace  was  sincere  ;  and  if  he  had  many  of  the  uncha- 
ritable prejudices  against  other  sects,  which  polemical 
controversy  had  generated,  and  the  Civil  War  brought 
to  a  head,  he  had  also  that  deep  sense  of  duty,  by  which 
enthusiasm  is  so  often  dignified,  and  held  his  very  life 
little,  if  called  upon  to  lay  it  down  in  attestation  of  the 
doctrines  in  which  he  believed.  But  he  was  soon  to 
prepare  for  leaving  the  district  which  Heaven,  he  con- 
ceived, had  assigned  to  him  as  his  corner  of  the  vine- 
yard ;  he  was  to  abandon  his  flock  to  the  wolf — was  to 
forsake  those  with  whom  he  had  held  sweet  counsel  in 
religious  communion — was  to  leave  the  recently  con- 
verted to  relapse  into  false  doctrines,  and  forsake  the 
wavering,  whom  his  continued  cares  might  have  direct- 
ed into  the  right  path — these  were  of  themselves  deep 
causes  of  sorrow,  and  were  aggravated,  doubtless,  by 
those  natural  feelings  with  which  all  men,  especially 
those  whose  duties  or  habits  have  confined  them  to  a 
limited  circle,  regard  the  separation  from  wonted 
scenes,  and  their  accustomed  haunts  of  solitary  musing 
or  social  intercourse. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  plan  of  placing  Mr.  Solsgrace 
at  the  head  of  a  non-conforming  congregation  in  his  pre- 
sent  parish,  which  his  followers  would  have  readily  con- 
sented to  endow  with  a  sufficient  revenue.  Bat  al- 
though the  act  for  universal  conformity  was  not  yet 
passed,  such  a  measure  was  understood  to  be  impend- 
ing, and  there  existed  a  general  opinion  among  the 
Presbyterians,  that  in  no  hands  was  it  likely  to  be  more 
strictly  enforced  than  in  those  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Solsgrace  himself  considered  not  only  his  personal  dan- 


118  TEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

ger  as  being  considerable, — for,  assuming  pernaps  more 
consequence  than  was  actually  attached  to  him  or  his 
productions,  he  conceived  the  honest  Knight  to  be  his 
mortal  and  determined  enemy, — but  he  also  conceived 
that  he  should  serve  the  cause  of  his  church  by  absent- 
ing himself  from  Derbyshire. 

"  Less  known  pastors,"  he  said,  "  though  perhaps 
more  worthy  of  the  name,  may  be  permitted  to  assem- 
ble the  scattered  flock  in  caverns  or  in  secret  wilds,  and 
to  them  shall  the  gleaning  of  the  grapes  of  Ephraim  be 
better  than  the  vintage  of  Abiezer.  But  I,  that  have 
so  often  carried  the  banner  forth  against  the  mighty — 
I,  whose  tongue  hath  testified,  morning  and  evening, 
like  the  watchman  upon  the  tower,  against  Popery. 
Prelacy,  and  the  tyrant  of  the  Peak — for  me  to  abide 
here  were  but  to  bring  the  sword  of  bloody  vengeance 
among  you,  that  the  shepherd  might  be  smitten,  and  the 
sheep  scattered.  The  shedders  of  blood  have  already 
assailed  me,  even  within  that  ground  which  they  them- 
selves call  consecrated  ;  and  yourselves  have  seen  the 
scalp  of  the  righteous  broken,  as  he  defended  my  cause. 
Therefore,  I  will  put  on  my  sandals,  and  gird  my  loins, 
and  depart  to  a  far  country,  and  there  do  as  my  duty 
shall  call  upon  me,  whether  it  be  to  act  or  to  suffer — 
to  bear  testimony  at  the  stake  or  in  the  pulpit." 

Such  were  the  sentiments  which  Mr.  Solsgrace  ex- 
pressed to  his  desponding  friends,  and  which  he  expa- 
tiated upon  at  more  length  with  Major  Bridgcnorth  : 
not  failing,  with  friendly  zeal,  to  rebuke  the  haste  which 
the  latter  had  shown,  to  thrust  out  the  hand  of  fellow- 
ship to  the  Amalekite  woman,  whereby  he  reminded 
him,  "  Pie  had  been  rendered  her  slave  and  bondsman 
for  a  season,  like  Samson,  betrayed  by  Delilah,  and 
might  have  remained  longer  in  the  house  of  Dagon,  had 
not  Heaven  pointed  to  him  a  way  out  of  the  snare. 
Also,  it  sprung  originally  from  the  Major's  going  up  to 
feast  in  the  high  place  of  Baal,  that  he  who  was  the 
champion  of  the  truth  was  stricken  down,  and  put  to 
shame  by  the  enemy,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  host." 

These  objurgations  seeming  to  give  some  offence  to 
Major  Bridgenorth,  who  liked,  no  better  than  any  other. 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    TEAK.  119 

man,  to  hear  of  his  own  mishaps,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  have  them  imputed  to  his  own  misconduct,  the  wor- 
thy divine  proceeded  to  take  shame  to  himself  for  his 
own   sinful  compliance  in  that  matter  ;  for  to  the  ven- 
geance justly  due  for  that  unlucky  dinner  at  Martindale 
Castle,   (which   was,  he  said,  a  crying  of  peace  when 
there  was  no  peace,  and  a  dwelling  in  the  tents  of  sin,) 
he  imputed  his  ejection  from  his  living,  with  the    de- 
struction of  some  of  his  most  pithy  and  highly  prized 
volumes  of  divinity,  with    the    loss    of  his  cap,  gown, 
and  band,  and  a  double  hogshead  of  choice  Derby  ale. 
The  mind  of  Major  Bridgenorth  was  strongly  tinged 
with  devotional  feeling,  which  his  late  misfortunes  had 
rendered  more  deep  and  solemn  ;  and  it  is,  therefore, 
no  wonder  that  when  he  heard  these  arguments  urged 
again  and  again,  by  a  pastor  whom  he   so  much  res- 
pected, and   who  was  now  a  confessor  in  the  cause  of 
their  joint  faith,   he  began  to  look  back  with  disappro- 
val on  his  own  conduct,  and  to  suspect  that  he  had  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  seduced  by  gratitude  towards  Lady 
Peveril,  and  by  her  special  arguments  in  favour  of  a 
mutual  and  tolerating  liberality  of  sentiments,  into  an 
action  which  had  a   tendency  to  compromise  his  reli- 
gious and  political  principles. 

One  morning,  as  Major  Bridgenorth  had  wearied 
himself  with  several  details  respecting  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  affairs,  he  was  reposing  in  the  leathern  easy 
chair,  beside  the  latticed  window,  a  posture  which,  by 
natural  association,  recalled  to  him  the  memory  of  for- 
mer times,  and  the  feelings  with  which  he  was  wont  to 
expect  the  recurring  visit  of  Sir  Geoffrey,  who  brought 
him  news  of  his  child's  welfare, — "Surely,"  he  said, 
thinking,  as  it  were,  aloud,  "  there  was  no  sin  in  the 
kindness  with  which  1  then  regarded  that  man.'' 

Solsgrace,  who  was  in  the  apartment,  and  guessed 
what  passed  through  his  friend's  mind,  acquainted  as  he 
was  with  every  point  of  his  history,  replied, — "When 
God  caused  Elijah  to  be  fed  by  ravens,  while  hiding  at 
the  brook  Cherith,  we  hear  not  of  his  fondling  the  un- 
clean birds,  whom,  contrary  to  their  ravening  nature, 
a  miracle  compelled  to  minister  to  him." 


120  FEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK* 

"  It  may  be  so,''  answered  Bridgenorth,  "  yet  the  flap 
of  their  wings  must  have  been  gracious  in  the  ear  of  the 
famished  prophet,  like  the  tread  of  his  horse  in  mine. 
The  ravens,  doubtless,  resumed  their  nature  when  the 
season  was  passed,  and  even  so  it  has  fared  with  him. 
— Hark!"  he  exclaimed,  starting,  "  I  hear  his  horse's 
hoof-tramp  even  now." 

It  was  seldom  that  the  echoes  of  that  silent  house  and 
court-yard  were  awakened  by  the  trampling  of  horses,. 
but  sudi  was  now  the  case. 

Both  Bridgenorth  and  Solsgrace  were  surprised  at 
the  sound,  and  even  disposed  to  anticipate  some  further 
oppression  on  the  part  of  government,  when  the  Ma- 
jor's old  servant  introduced,  with  little  ceremony,  (for 
his  manners  were  nearly  as  plain  as  his  master's,)  a  tall 
gentleman,  on  the  farther  side  of  middle  life,  whose 
vest  and  cloak,  long  hair,  slouched  hat,  and  drooping 
feather,  announced  him  as  a  Cavalier.  He  bowed  for- 
mally, but  courteously,  to  both  gentlemen,  and  said, 
that  he  was  "  Sir  Jasper  Cranbourne,  charged  with  an 
especial  message  to  Master  Ralph  Bridgenorth,  of 
Moultrassie  Hall,  by  his  honourable  friend  Sir  Geoffrey 
Feveriiofthe  Peak,  and  that  he  requested  to  know 
whether  Master  Bridgenorth  would  be  pleased  to  re- 
ceive his  acquittal  of  commission  here  or  elsewhere.'' 
"  Any  thing  which  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  can  have  to 
say  to  me,"  said  Major  Bridgenorth,  "may  be  told  in- 
stantly, and  before  my  friend,  from  whom  I  have  no 
secrets." 

"  The  presence  of  any  other  friend  were,  instead  of 
being  objectionable,  the  thing  in  the  world  most  to  be 
desired,"  said  Sir  Jasper,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
and  looking  at  Mr.  Solsgrace;  "but  this  gentleman 
seems  to   be  a  sort  of  clergyman." 

"  I  am  not  conscious  of  any  secrets,"  answered 
Bridgenorth,  "  nor  do  1  desire  to  have  any,  in  which  a 
clergyman  is  an  unfitting  confidant." 

"  At your  pleasure,"  replied  Sir  Jasper.  "  The  con- 
fidence,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  well  enough  chosen, 
for  your  divines  (always  underyour  favour)  have  proved 
no  enemies  to  such  matters  as  I  am  to  treat  with  you 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  121 

"Proceed,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Bridgenorth,  gravely  : 
•'and  I  pray  )ou  to  be  seated,  unless  it  is  rather  your 
pleasure  to  stand." 

ul  must,  in  the  first  place,  deliver  myself  of  my 
small  commission, ''  answered  Sir  Jasper,  drawing  him- 
self up  ;  "  and  it  will  be  after  I  have  seen  the  reception 
thereof,  that  I  shall  know  whether  I  am,  or  am  not,  to  sit 
down  at  Moultrassie-Hall — Sir  Geoffrey  Pevenl,  Mas- 
ter Bridgenorth,  haih  carefully  considered  with  him- 
self the  unhappy  circumstances  which  at  present  sepa- 
rate you  as  neighbours.  And  he  remembers  many 
passages  in  former  times — 1  speak  his  very  words — - 
which  incline  him  to  do  all  that  can  possibly  consist 
with  his  honour  to  wipe  out  unkindness  between  you  ; 
and  for  this  desirable  object,  he  is  willing  to  condescend 
in  a  degree,  which  as  you  could  not  have  expected,  it; 
will  no  doubt  give  you  great  pleasure  to  learn." 

"  Allow  me  to  say,  Sir  Jasper,"  said  Bridgenorth, 
"  that  this  is  unnecessary.  I  have  made  no  complaints 
of  Sir  Geoffrey — I  have  required  no  submission  from 
him— I  am  about  to  leave  this  country  ;  and  what  affairs 
we  may  have  together,  can  be  as  well  settled  by  others 
as  by  ourselves." 

"In  a  word."  said  the  divine,  "  the  worthy  Major 
Bridgenorth  hath  had  enough  of  trafficking  with  the 
ungodly,  and  will  no  longer,  on  any  terms,  consort  with 
them." 

"  Gentlemen  both,"  said  Sir  Jasper,  with  imperturba- 
ble politeness,  bowing,  "  you  greatly  mistake  the  tenor  of 
my  commission,  which  you  will  do  as  well  to  hear  out, 
before  making  any  reply  to  it. — 1  think,  Master  Bridge- 
north,  you  cannot  but  remember  your  letterto  the  Lady 
Peveril,  of  which  I  have  here  a  rough  copy,  in  which 
you  complain  of  the  hard  measure  which  you  have  re- 
ceived at  Sir  Geoffrey's  hand,  and  in  particular,  when 
he  pulled  you%from  your  horse  at  or  near  Hatley-Nick. 
Now,  Sir  Geoffrey  thinks  so  well  of  you,  as  to  believe, 
that,  were  it  not  for  the  wide  difference  betwixt  his  de- 
scent and  rank  and  your  own,  you  would  have  sought 
to  bring  this  matter  to  a  gentleman-like  arbitrement 
as  the  only  mode  whereby  your  stain  may  be  honoura- 

vet.  j.  11 


122  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

bly  wiped  away.  Wherefore,  in  this  slight  note,  he 
gives  you,  in  his  generosity,  the  offer  of  what  you,  in 
your  modesty,  (for  to  nothing  else  does  he  impute  your 
acquiescence,)  have  declined  to  demand  of  him.  And 
withal,  I  bring  you  the  measure  of  his  weapon;  and 
when  you  have  accepted  the  cartel  which  I  now  offer 
you,  I  shall  be  ready  to  settle  the  time,  place,  and  other 
circumstances  of  your  meeting." 

"  And  1,"  said  Solsgrace,  wuha  solemn  voice,  "should 
the  author  of  evil  tempt  my  fiiend  to  accept  of  so  blood- 
thirsty  a  proposal,  would  be  the  hist  to  pronounce  against 
him  sentence  of  the  greater  excommunication." 

"  It  is  not  you  whom  1  address,  reverend  sir,"  re- 
plied the  envoy  ;  ^  your  interest,  not  unnaturally,  may 
determine  you  to  be  more  anxious  about  your  patron's 
life  than  about  his  honour.  1  must  know,  from  himself; 
to  which  he  is  disposed  to  give  the  preference." 

So  saying,  and  with  a  graceful  bow,  he  again  tendered 
the  challenge  to  Major  Bridgenorth.  There  was  ob- 
viously a  struggle  in  that  gentleman's  bosom  between 
the  suggestions  of  human  honour  and  those  of  religious 
principle  ;  but  the  latter  prevailed.  He  calmly  waived 
receiving  the  paper  which  Sir  Jasper  offered  to  him. 
and  spoke  to  the  following  purpose.  "  It  may  not  be 
known  to  you,  Sir  Jasper,  that  since  the  general  pour- 
ing out  of  Christian  light  upon  this  kingdom,  many  solid 
men  have  been  led  to  doubt  whether  the  shedding  hu- 
man blood  by  the  hand  of  a  fellow-creature  be  in  t 
respect  justifiable.  And  although  this  rule  appears  to 
me  to  be  scarcely  applicable  to  our  state  in  this  stage 
of  trial,  seeing  that  such  non-resistance,  if  general, 
would  surrender  our  civil  and  religious  rights  into  the 
hands  of  Whatsoever  daring  tyrants  might  usurp  the 
same  ;  yet  I  am,  and  have  been,  inclined  to  limit  the 
use  of  carnal  arms  to  the  case  of  necessary  self-defence, 
whether  such  regards  our  own  person,  or  the  protec- 
tion of  our  country  against  invasion  ;  or  of  our  rights  of 
property,  and  the  freedom  of  our  laws  and  of  our  con- 
science, against  usurping  power.  And  as  I  have  never 
shown  myself  unwilling  to  draw  my  sword  in  any  of  the 
latter  causes,  so  you  shall  excuse  my  suffering  it  now  te 


■^ 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  123 

remain  in  the  scabbard,  when,  having  sustained  a  grie- 
vous injury,  the  man  who  inflicted  it  summons  me  to 
combat,  either  upon  an  idle  punctilio,  or,  as  is  more 
likely,  in  mere  bravado." 

"  I  have  heard  you  vith  patience,'*  said  Sir  Jasper : 
:'  and  now,  Master  Bridgenorth,  take  it  not  amiss  if  1 
beseech  you  to  bethink  yourself  better  on  this  matter, 
i  vow  to  Heaven,  sir,  that  your  honour  lies  a-bleeding  ; 
and  that  in  condescending  lo  afford  you  this  fair  meet- 
ing, and  thereby  giving  you  some  chance  to  stop  its 
wounds,  Sir  Geoffrey  has  been  moved  by  a  tender  sense 
of  your  condition,  and  an  earnest  wish  to  redeem  your 
dishonour.  And  it  will  be  but  the  crossing  of  your 
blade  with  his  honoured  sword  for  the  space  of  some 
few  minutes,  and  you  will  either  live  or  die  a  noble 
and  honoured  gentleman.  Besides,  that  the  Knight's 
exquisite  skill  offence  may  enable  him,  as  his  goodna- 
ture will  incline  him,  to  disarm  you  with  some  flesh 
wound,  little  to  the  damage  of  your  person,  and  greatly 
to  the  benefit  of  your  reputation." 

"  The  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked,"  said  Master 
Solsgrace,  emphatically,  by  way  of  commenting  on  this 
speech,  which  Sir  Jasper  had  uttered  very  pathetically, 
;'are  cruel." 

"  I  pray  to  have  no  further  interruption  from  your 
reverence,"  said  Sir  Jasper;  u  especially  as  I  think 
this  affair  very  little  concerns  you;  and  1  entreat  that 
you  permit  me  to  discharge  myself  regularly  of  my  com- 
mission from  my  worthy  friend." 

So  saying,  he  took  his  sheathed  rapier  from  his  belt, 
and  passing  the  point  through  the  silk  thread  which  se- 
cured the  letter,  he  once  more,  and  literally  at  sword 
point,  gracefully  tendered  it  to  Major  Bridgenorth,  who 
again  waved  it  aside,  though  colouring  deeply  at  the 
same  time,  as  if  he  was  putting  a  marked  constraint 
upon  himself — drew  back,  and  made  Sir  Jasper  Cran- 
bourne  a  deep'  bow. 

ik  Since  it  is  to  be  thus,"  said  Sir  Jasper,  "  I  must 
myself  do  violence  to  the  seal  of  Sir  Geoffrey's  letter, 
and  read  it  to  you,  that  I  may  fully  acquit  myself  of  the 
charge  intrusted  to  me,  and  make  you,  Master  Bridge- 


124.  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

north,  equally  aware  of  the  generous  intentions  of  Sii 
Geoffrey  on  your  behalf." 

"  If,"  said  iMajor  Bridgenorth,  "  the  contents  of  the 
letter  be  to  no  other  purpose  than  you  have  intimated, 
methinks  farther  ceremony  is  unnecessary  on  this  occa- 
sion, as  I  have  already  taken  my  course." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Sir  Jasper,  breaking  open  the 
letter,  "  it  is  fitting  that  I  read  to  you  the  letter  of  my 
worshipful  friend."  And  he  read  accordingly  as  fol- 
lows:— 

"  For  the  worthy  hands  of  Ralph  Bridgenorth,  Esquire, 
of  Moultrassie-Hall —  These , 

By  the  honoured  conveyance  of  the   Worshipful    Sir 
Jasper  Cranbourne,  Knight,  of  Long  Maliington. 

MASTER    BRIDGENORTH, 

We  have  been  given  to  understand  by  your  letter  to 
our  loving  wife,  Dame  Margaret  Peveril,  that  you  hold 
hard  construction  of  certain  passages  betwixt  you  and 
me,  of  a  late  date,  as  if  your  honour  should  have  been, 
in  some  sort,  prejudiced  by  what  then  took  place.  And 
although  you  have  not  thought  it  fit  to  have  direct  re- 
course to  me,  to  request  such  satisfaction  as  is  due  from 
one  gentleman  of  condition  to  another,  yet  I  am  fully 
minded  that  this  proceeds  only  from  modesty,  arising 
out  of  the  distinction  of  our  degree,  and  from  no  lack 
of  that  courage  which  you  have  heretofore  displayed,  I 
would  I  could  say  in  a  good  cause.  Wherefore,  I  am 
purposed  to  give  you,  by  my  friend  Sir  Jasper  Cran- 
bourne, a  meeting,  for  the  sake  of  doing  that  which 
doubtless  you  entirely  long  for.  Sir  Jasper  will  deliver 
you  the  length  of  my  weapon,  and  appoint  circumstan- 
ces and  an  hour  for  our  meeting  ;  which,  whether  early 
or  late — on  foot  or  horseback — with  rapier  or  back- 
sword— I  refer  to  yourself,  with  all  the  other  privileges 
of  a  challenged  person;  only  desiring,  that  if  you  de- 
cline to  match  my  weapon,  you  will  send  me  forthwith 
the  length  and  breadth  of  your  own.  And  nothing 
doubting  that  the  issue  of  this  meeting  must  needs  be  to 


PEVERIL  OF  THE   PEAK.  ISO 

end,  in  one  way  or  other,  all  unkindness   betwixt  two 
near  neighbours, 

I  remain, 
Your  humble  servant  to  command, 

Geoffrey  Peveril  of  the  Peak* 
"  Given  from  my  poor  house  of  Martindaie  Castle, 
this  same of sixteen  hundred  and  sixty." 

"  Bear  back  my  respects  to  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril,'" 
said  Major  Bridgenorth.  u  According  to  his  light,  his 
meaning  may  be  fair  towards  me;  but  tell  him  that  our 
quarrel  had  its  rise  in  his  own  wilful  aggression  towards 
me  ;  and  that  though  I  wish  to  be  in  charity  with  alj 
mankind,  I  am  not  so  wedded  to  his  friendship  as  to 
break  the  laws  of  God,  and  run  the  risk  of  suffering  or 
committing  murder,  in  order  to  regain  it.  And  for  you, 
sir,  methinks  your  advancing  years  and  past  misfortunes 
may  teach  you  the  folly  of  coming  on  such  idle  errands.*- 

"  I  shall  do  your  message,  Master  Ralph  Bridgenorth,'* 
said  Sir  Jasper  ;  "  and  shall  then  endeavour  to  forget 
your  name,  as  a  sound  unfit  to  be  pronounced,  or  even 
remembered,  by  a  man  of  honour,  in  the  meanwhile, 
in  return  for  your  uncivil  advice,  be  pleased  to  accept 
of  mine  ;  namely,  that  as  your  religion  prevents  your 
giving  a  gentleman  satisfaction,  it  ought  to  make  you 
very  cautious  of  offering  him  provocation." 

So  saying,  and  with  a  look  of  haughty  scorn,  first  at 
the  Major  and  then  at  the  divine,  the  envoy  of  Sir 
Geoffrey  put  his  hat  on  his  head,  replaced  his  rapier  in 
its  belt,  and  left  the  apartment,  in  a  (ew  minutes  af- 
terward, the  tread  of  his  horse  died  away  at  a  consi- 
derable distance. 

Bridgenorth  had  held  his  hand  upon  his  brow  ever 
since  his  departure,  and  a  tear  of  anger  and  shame  was 
on  his  face  as  he  raised  it  when  the  sound  was  heard  no 
more.  "  He  carries  this  answer  to  Martindaie  Castie,'" 
he  said.  "  itien  will  hereafter  think  of  me  as  a  whip- 
ped, beaten,  dishonourable  fellow,  whom  every  one  may 
baffle  and  insult  at  their  pleasure.  It  is  well  I  am  leav- 
ing the  house  of  my  father." 

Master  SoJsgrace  approached  his  friend  with  much 
U* 


'-26  PEVEfttL    Of    THE    PEAK. 

sympathy,  and  grasped  him  by  the  hand.  ;i  Noble  bro- 
ther," he  said,  with  unwonted  kindness  of  manner. 
"  though  a  man  of  peace,  I  can  judge  what  this  sacrifice 
hath  cost  to  thy  manly  spirit.  But  God  will  not  have 
from  us  an  imperfect  obedience.  We  must  not,  like 
Ananias  and  Sapphira,  reserve  behind  some  darling 
lust,  some  favourite  sin,  while  we  pretend  to  make  sa- 
crifice of  our  worldly  affections.  What  avails  it  to  say 
that  we  have  but  secreted  a  little  matter,  if  the  slightest 
remnant  of  the  accursed  thing  remain  hidden  in  our 
tent  ?  Would  it  be  a  defence  in  thy  prayers  to  say,  1 
have  not  murthered  this  man  for  the  lucre  of  gain,  like 
a  robber — nor  for  the  acquisition  of  power,  like  a  ty- 
rant— nor  for  the  gratification  of  revenge,  like  a  dark- 
ened savage  ;  but  because  the  imperious  voice  of  world- 
ly honour  said,  '  Go  forth — kill  or  be  killed — is  it  not 
I  that  have  sent  thee  V  Bethink  thee,  my  worthy 
friend*  how  thou  couldst  frame  such  a  vindication  in 
thy  prayers  ;  and  if  thou  art  forced  to  tremble  at  the 
blasphemy  of  such  an  excuse,  remember  in  thy  prayers 
the  thanks  due  to  Heaven,  which  enabled  you  to  resist 
the  strong  temptation." 

"  Reverend  and  dear  friend,"  answered  Bridgenorth. 
^  I  feel  that  you  speak  the  truth.  Bitterer,  indeed,  and 
harder,  to  the  old  Adam,  is  the  text  which  ordains  him 
to  suffer  shame,  than  that  which  bids  him  to  do  valiantly 
for  the  truth.  But  happy  am  1  that  my  path  through 
the  wilderness  of  this  world  will,  for  some  space  at 
least,  be  along  with  one,  whose  zeal  and  friendship  are 
so  active  to  support  me  when  I  am  fainting  in  the  way." 
While  the  inhabitants  of  Moultrassie-Hall  thus  com- 
municated together  upon  the  purport  of  Sir  Jasper 
Oranbourne's  visit,  that  worthy  Knight  greatly  excited 
the  surprise  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peverii,  by  reporting  the 
manner  in  which  his  embassy  had  been  received. 

"  I  took  him  for  a  man  of  other  metal,"  said  Sir 
Geoffrey  ; — "  nay,  I  would  have  sworn  it  had  any  one 
asked  my  testimony.  But  there's  no  making  a  silk 
purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear.  I  have  done  a  folly  for  him 
that  1  will  never  do  for  another ;  and  that  is,  to  think  a 
Presbyterian  would  fight  without  his  preachers  per- 


PEVEIUL  OF  the:   peak.  127 

mission.  Give  them  a  two  hours  sermon,  and  let  them 
howl  a  psalm  to  a  tune  that  is  worse  than  the  cries  of  a 
flogged  hound,  and  the  villains  will  lay  on  like  threshers: 
but  for  a  calm,  cool,  gentlemanlike  turn  upon  the  sod; 
hand  to  hand,  in  a  neighbourly  way,  they  have  not  ho- 
nour enough  to  undertake  it.  But  enough  of  our  crop- 
eared  cur  of  a  neighbour. — Sir  Jasper,  you  will  tarry 
with  us  to  dine,  and  see  how  Darne  Margaret's  kitchen 
smokes  ;  and  after  dinner  J  will  show  you  a  long-winged 
falcon  fly.  She  is  not  mine,  but  the  Countess's,  who 
brought  her  from  London  on  her  list  almost  the  whole 
way,  for  all  the  haste  she  was  in,  and  left  her  with  me 
to  keep  the  perch  for  a  season." 

This  match  was  soon  arranged  ;  and  Dame  Marga- 
ret overheard  the  good  Knight's  resentment  mutter  it- 
self off,  with  those  feelings  with  which  we  liste^  to  the 
last  growling  of  the  thunder-storm  ;  which,  as  theflblack 
sinks  behind  the  hill,  at  once  assures  us  that  there  has 
been  danger,  and  that  the  peril  is  over.  She  could  not. 
indeed,  but  marvel  in  her  own  mind  at  the  singular 
path  of  reconciliation  with  his  neighbour  which  her 
husband  had,  with  so  much  confidence,  and  in  the  actual 
sincerity  of  his  good  will  to  Ma-ter  Bridgenorth,  at- 
tempted to  open  ;  and  she  blessed  God  internally  thai 
it  had  not  terminated  in  bloodshed.  But  these  reflec- 
tions she  locked  carefully  within  her  own  bosom,  well 
knowing  that  they  referred  to  subjects  in  which  the 
Knight  of  the  Peak  would  neither  permit  his  sagacity 
to  be  called  in  question  nor  his  will  to  be  controlled. 

The  progress  of  the  history  hath  hitherto  been  slow  ; 
but  after  this  period  so  little  matter  worthy  of  remark 
occurred  at  Martindale,  that  we  must  hurry  over  hastily 
the  transactions  of  several  years. 


PEVERIL    OR    THE    TEAK 


CHAPTRER  X. 


Cleopatra.     Give  me  to  drink  mandragoi'a; 
That  1  may  sleep  away  this  gap  of  time. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

There  passed,  as  we  hinted  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
Fast  chapter,  four  or  five  years  after  the  period  we  have 
dilated^jipon  ;  the  events  of  which  scarcely  require  to 
be  d#cussed,  so  far  as  our  present  purpose  is  concern 
ed,  in  as  many  lines.  The  Knight  and  his  lady  con- 
tinued to  reside  at  their  Castle — she,  with  prudence 
and  with  patience,  endeavouring  to  repair  the  damages 
which  the  Civil  Wars  had  inflicted  upon  their  fortune: 
and  murmuring  a  little  when  her  plans  of  economy 
were  interrupted  by  the  liberal  hospitality  which  was 
her  husband's  principal  expense,  and  to  which  he  was 
attached,  not  only  from  his  own  English  heartiness  of 
disposition,  but  from  ideas  of  maintaining  the  dignity 
of  his  ancestry — no  less  remarkable,  according  to  the 
traditions  of  their  buttery,  kitchen,  and  cellar,  for  the 
fat  beeves  which  they  roasted,  and  the  mighty  ale  which 
they  brewed,  than  for  their  extensive  estates,  and  the 
number  of  their  retainers. 

The  world,  however,  upon  the  whole,  went  happilv 
and  easily  with  the  worthy  couple.  Sir  Geoffrey's 
debt  to  his  neighbour  Bridgenorth  continued  it  is  true, 
unabated :  but  he  was  the  only  creditor  upon  the  Mar- 
tindale  estate — all  others  being  paid  off.  It  would  have 
been  most  desirable  that  this  encumbrance  also  should  be 
cleared,  and  it  was  the  great  object  of  Dame  Margarets 
economy  to  effect  the  discharge  ;  for  although  interest 
was  regularly  settled  with  Master  Win-the-nght,   the 


TEVERIL    OF    "THE    PEAK.  229 

Chesterfield  attorney,  yet  the  principal  sum,  which  was 
a  large  one,  might  be  called  for  at  an  inconvenient  time* 
The  man,  too,  was  gloomy,  important,  and  mysterious, 
and  always  seemed  as  if  he  was  thinking  upon  his  bro- 
ken head  in  the  churchyard  of  Martindale  cum  Moul- 
trassie. 

Dame  Margaret  sometimes  transacted  the  necessary 
business  with  him  in  person  5  and  when  he  came  to  the 
Castle  on  these  occasions,  she  thought  she  saw  a  mali- 
cious and  disobliging  expression  in  his  manner  and  coun- 
tenance. Yet  his  actual  conduct  was  not  only  fair,  but 
liberal;  for  indulgence  was  given,  in  the  way  of  delay 
of  payment,  whenever  circumstances  rendered  it  ne- 
cessary to  the  debtor  to  require  it.  It  seemed  to  Lady 
Peveril,  that  the  agent,  in  such  cases,  was  acting  under 
the  strict  orders  of  his  absent  employer,  concerning 
whose  welfare  she  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain 
anxiety. 

Shortly  after  the  failure  of  the  singular  negotiation 
for  attaining  peace  by  combat,  which  Peveril  had  at- 
tempted to  open  with  Major  Bridgenorth,  that  gentle- 
man left  his  seat  of  Moultrassie-Hall  in  the  care  of  his 
old  housekeeper,  and  departed,  no  one  knew  whither, 
having  in  company  with  him  the  Reverend  Master  Sols- 
grace,  with  his  daughter  Alice  and  Mrs.  Deborah  Deb- 
bitch,  now  formally  installed  into  all  the  duties  of  a 
gouvernante.  For  some  time  public  rumour  persisted 
in  asserting,  that  Major  Bridgenorth  had  only  retreated 
to  a  distant  part  of  the  country  for  a  season  to  achieve 
his  supposed  purpose  of  marrying  Mrs.  Deborah,  and  of 
letting  the  news  be  cold,  and  the  laugh  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood be  ended,  ere  he  brought  her  down  as  mis- 
tress of  Moultrassie-Hall.  This  rumour  died  away  ; 
and  it  was  then  affirmed,  that  he  had  gone  to  foreign 
parts  to  ensure  the  continuance  of  health  in  so  delicate 
a  constitutions  that  of  little  Alice.  But  when  the 
Major's  dread  of  Popery  was  remembered,  together 
with  the  still  deeper  antipathies  of  worthy  Master  Ne- 
hemiah  Solsgrace,  it  was  resolved  unanimously,  that 
nothing  less  than  what  they  might  deem  a  fair  chance 


130  PEVERIL  OF  THE  TEAK. 

of  converting  the  Pope  would  have  induced  the  parties 
to  trust  themselves  within  Catholic  dominions.  The 
most  prevailing  opinion  was,  that  they  were  gone  to 
New  England,  the  refuge  then  of  many  whom  too  inti- 
mate concern  with  the  affairs  of  the  iate  times,  or  the 
desire  of  enjoying  uncontrolled  freedom  of  conscience^ 
had  induced  to  emigrate  from  Britain. 

Ladv  Peveril  could  not  help  entertaining  a  vague 
idea,  that  Bridgenorlh  was  not  so  distant.  The  ex- 
treme order  in  which  every  thing  was  maintained  at 
Moultrassie-Hall  seemed — no  disparagement  to  the 
care  of  Dame  Dickens,  the  housekeeper,  and  the  other 
persons  engaged — to  argue,  that  the  master's  eye  wa6 
not  so  very  far  off  but  what  its  occasional  inspection 
might  be  apprehended.  It  is  true,  that  neither  the  do- 
mestics nor  the  attorney  answered  any  questions  re- 
specting the  residence  of  Master  Bridgenorth ;  but 
there  was  an  air  of  mystery  about  them  when  interro- 
gated, that  seemed  to  argue  more  than  met  the  ear. 

About  tive  years  after  Master  Bridgenorth  had  left 
the  country,  a  singular  incident  took  place.  Sir  Geof- 
frey was  absent  at  the  Chesterfield  races,  and  Lady 
Peveril,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  around  every 
part  of  the  neighbourhood  unattended,  or  only  accom- 
panied by  Ellesmere,  or  her  little  boy,  had  gone  down 
one  evening  upon  a  charitable  errand  to  a  solitary  hut 
whose  inhabitant  lay 'sick  of  a  fever,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  infectious.  Lady  Peveril  never  allowed 
apprehensions  of  this  kind  to  stop  u  devoted  charitable 
deeds;"  but  she  did  not  choose  lo  expose  either  her 
son  or  her  attendant  to  the  risk  which  she  herself,  in 
some  confidence  that  she  knew  precautions  for  esca- 
ping the  danger,  did  not  hesitate  to  incur. 

Lady  Peveril  had  set  out  at  a  late  hour  in  the  evening, 
and  the  way  proved  longer  than  she  expected — several 
circumstances  also  occurring  to  detain  her  at  the  hut 
of  her  patient.  It  was  a  broad  autumn  moon-light, 
when  she  prepared  to  return  homeward  through  the 
broken  glades  and  upland  which  divided  her  from  the 
Castle.     This  she  considered  as  a  matter  of  very  litfl* 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  131 

importance,  in  so  quiet  and  sequestered  a  country, 
where  the  road  lay  chiefly  through  her  own  domains, 
especially  as  she  had  a  lad  about  fifteen  years  old,  the 
son  of  her  patient,  to  escort  her  on  the  way.  The  dis- 
tance was  better.than  two  miles,  but  might  be  consi- 
derably abridged  by  passing  through  an  avenue  belong- 
ing to  the  estate  of  Moultrassie-Hall,  which  she  had 
avoided  as  she  came,  not  from  the  ridiculous  rumours 
which  pronounced  it  to  be  haunted,  but  because  her 
husband  was  much  displeased  when  any  attempt  was 
made  to  render  the  walks  of  the  Castle  and  Hall  com- 
mon to  the  inhabitants  of  both.  The  good  lady,  in  con- 
sideration, perhaps,  of  extensive  latitude  allowed  to 
her  in  the  more  important  concerns  of  the  family,  made 
a  point  of  never  interfering  with  her  husband's  whims 
or  prejudices  ;  and  it  is  a  compromise  which  we  would 
heartily  recommend  to  all  managing  matrons  of  our 
acquaintance  ;  for  it  is  surprising  how  much  real  power 
will  be  cheerfully  resigned  to  the  fair  sex,  for  the  plea- 
sure of  being  allowed  to  ride  one's  hobby  in  peace  and 
quiet. 

Upon  the  present  occasion,  however,  although  the 
Dobby's  Walk  was  within  the  inhibited  domains  of  the 
Hall,  the  Lady  Peveril  determined  to  avail  herself  of  it, 
for  the  purpose  of  shortening  her  road  home,  and  she 
directed  her  steps  accordingly.  But  when  the  peasant- 
boy,  her  companion,  who  had  hitherto  followed  her. 
whistling  cheerily,  with  a  hedge-bill  in  his  hand,  and 
his  hat  on  one  side,  perceived  that  she  turned  to  the 
stile  which  entered  to  the  Dobby's  Walk,  he  showed 
symptoms  of  great  fear,  and,  at  length,  coming  to  the 
-  side,  petitioned  her,  in  a  whimpering  tone, — 
•;  Don't  ye  now — don't  ye  now,  my  lady,  don't  ye  go 
yonder.*' 

Lady  Peveril,  observing  that  his  teeth  chattered  in 
his  head,  and  that  his  whole  person  exhibited  great 
:»igns  of  terror,  began  to  recollect  the  report,  that  the 
first  Squire  of  Moultrassje,  the  brewer  of  Chesterfield 
aforesaid,  who  had  bought  the  estate,  and  then  died  of 
melancholy,  for  lack  of  something  to  do,  (and,  as  was 
said,  not  without  suspicion  of  suicide,)  was  supposed  to 


132  PEVERIL    OF    THE    TEAK. 

walk  in  this  sequestered  avenue,  accompanied  by  a  large 
headless  mastiff,  which,  when  he  was  alive,  and  had 
his  head,  was  a  particular  favourite  of  the  ex-brewer* 
To  have  expected  any  protection  from  her  escort,  in 
the  condition  to  which  superstitious  fear  had  reduced 
him,  would  have  heen  truly  a  hopeles's  trust ;  and  Lady 
Peveril,  who  was  not  apprehensive  of  any  danger, 
thought  there  would  be  great  cruelty  in  dragging  the 
cowardly  boy  into  a  scene  which  he  regarded  with  so 
much  apprehension.  She  gave  him,  therefore,  a  silver 
piece,  and  permitted  him  to  return.  The  latter  boon 
seemed  even  more  acceptable  than  the  first ;  for  ere 
she  could  return  the  purse  into  her  pocket,  she  heard 
the  wooden  clogs  of  her  bold  convoy  in  full  retreat,  by 
the  way  from  whence  they  came. 

Smiling  within  herself  at  the  fear  she  esteemed  so 
ludicrous,  Ladv  Peveril  ascended  the  stile,  and  was 
soon  hidden  from  the  broad  light  of  the  moonbeams, 
by  the  numerous  and  entangled  boughs  of  the  huge 
elms,  which  meeting  from  either  side,  totally  overarch- 
ed the  old  avenue.  The  scene  was  calculated  to  excite 
solemn  thoughts  ;  and  the  distant  glimmer  of  a  light 
from  one  of  the  numerous  casements  in  the  front  of 
Moultrassie-Hall,  which  lay  at  some  distance,  was  cal- 
culated to  make  them  even  melancholy.  She  thought 
of  the  fate  of  that  family — of  the  deceased  Mrs. 
Bridgenorth,  with  whom  she  had  often  walked  in  this 
very  avenue,  and  who,  though  a  woman  of  no  high 
parts  or  accomplishments,  had  always  testified  the 
deepest  respect,  and  the  most  earnest  gratitude,  for  such 
notice  as  she  had  shown  to  her.  She  thought  of  her 
blighted  hopes — her  premature  death — the  despair  of 
her  self-banished  husband — the  uncertain  fate  of  their 
orphan  child,  for  whom  she  feit,  even  at  this  distance 
of  time,  some  touch  of  a  mother's  affection. 

Upon  such  sad  subjects  her  thoughts  were  turned, 
when,  just  as  she  attained  the  middle  of  the  avenue, 
the  imperfect  and  chequered  light  which  found  its  way 
through  the  sylvan  archway,  showed  her  something  which 
resembled  the  figure  of  a  man,     Lady  Peveril  paused 


PETERIL    Of    THE    PEAK.  183 

a  moment,  but  instantly  advanced; — her  bosom,  per- 
haps, gave  one  startled  throb,  as  a  debt  to  the  su- 
perstitious belief  <>f  the  times,  but  she  instantly  repell- 
ed the  thought  of  supernatural  appearances.  From 
those  that  were  merely  mortal,  she  had  nothing  to  fear. 
A  marauder  <»n  the  game  was  the  worst  character  whom 
she  was  like  to  encounter;  and  he  would  be  sure  to 
hide  himself  from  iivr  observation.  She  advanced, 
accordingly,  steadily:  and.  as  she  did  so,  had  the  sa- 
tisfaction to  observe,  that  the  figure,  as  she  expected, 
crave  place  to  her.  and  ul'nhd  away  amongst  the  trees 
on  the  left  hand  side  of  the  avenue.  As  she  passed  the 
spot  on  which  the  form  had  been  so  lately  visible,  and 
bethought  herself  that  this  wanderer  of  the  night  might, 
nay  must,  fie  in  her  vicinity,  her  resolution  could  not 
prevent  her  mending  her  pace,  and  that  with  so  little 
precaution,  that,  stumbling  over  the  limb  of  a  tree, 
which,  twisted  off  by  a  late  tempest,  stiil  lay  in  the 
avenue,  she  fell,  and,  as  she  fell,  screamed  aloud.  A 
strong  hand  in  a  moment  afterwards  added  to  her  fear 
by  assisting  her  to  rise,  and  a  voice,  to  whose  accents 
she  was  not  a  stranger,  though  they  hid  been  long  un- 
heard, said,  i;  Is  it  not  you  Lady  l'everil  ?  " 

{'  It  is  I,"  said  she,  commanding  her  astonishment  and 
fear;  "and  if  my  ear  deceive  me  not,  I  speak  to  Mas- 
ter liridgenorth." 

"I  was  that  man/'  said  he  "while  oppression  left 
me  a  name." 

He  spoke  nothing  more,  but  continued  to  walk  be- 
side her  for  a  minute  or  two  in  silence  She  felt  her 
situation  embarrassing  ;  and,  to  divert  it  of  that  feeling, 
as  well  as  out  of  real  interest  in  the  question,  she  asked 
him,  t;  How  her  god-daughter  Alice  now  was?  " 

"Of god-daughter,  madam," answered  Major  Bridge- 
north.  ••  I  know  nothing;  that  behig  one  of  the  names 
which  have  been  introduced,  to  the  corruption  and  pol- 
lution of  (/  >  I  .>  ord:  lances  The  infant  who  owed  to 
yourjjadyship  (^o  called)  her  escape  from  disease  and 
death, is  a  healthy  and  thriving  girl,  as  I  am  given  to 
■net  by  those  in  whose  charge  she  is  lodged,  for 

I   have    iot    lately  seen   her.     And  it  is  even  tne  recol- 

v<>-  .  r.  12 


134  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK. 

lection  of  these  passages,  which  in  a  manner  impelled 
me,  alarmed  also  by  your  fall,  to  offer  myself  to  you 
in  this  time  and  mode,  which,  in  other  respects,  is  no 
way  consistent  with  my  present  safety." 

"  With  your  safety,  Master  Bridgenorth  ?  "  said  the 
Lady  Peveril  ;  "  surely  I  could  never  have  thought 
that  it  was  in  danger  ?  " 

"You  have  some  news,  then,  yet  to  learn,  madam," 
Said  Major  Bridgenorth;  "but  you  will  hear,  in  the 
course  of  to-morrow,  reasons  why  1  dare  not  appear 
openly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  my  own  property,  and 
wherefore  there  is  small  judgment  in  committing  the 
knowledge  of  my  present  residence  to  any  one  connect- 
ed with  Martindale  Castle." 

"Master  Bridgenorth,"  said  the  lady,  "you  were, 
in  former  times,  prudent  and  cautious — 1  hope  you  have 
been  misled  by  no  hasty  impression — by  no  rash  scheme 
__I  hope -" 

"Pardon  my  interrupting  you  madam,"  said  Bridge- 
north.  "  I  have  indeed  been  changed — ay,  my  very 
heart  within  me  has  been  changed.  In  the  times  to 
which  your  ladyship  (so  called)  thinks  proper  to  refer, 
I  was  a  man  of  this  world — bestowing  on  it  all  my 
thoughts — all  my  actions,  save  formal  observances — 
little  deeming  what  was  the  duty  of  a  Christian  man, 
and  how  far  his  self-denial  ought  to  extend — even  unto 
giving  all  as  if  he  gave  nothing.  Hence,  I  thought 
chiefly  on  carnal  things — on  the  adding  of  field  to  field, 
and  wealth  to  wealth — of  the  balancing  between  party 
and  party-securing  a  friend  here,  without  losing  a  friend 
there — But  Heaven  smote  me  for  my  apostacyr,  the  ra- 
ther that  I  abused  the  name  of  religion,  as  a  self-seek- 
er, and  a  most  blinded  and  carnal  will-worshipper — 
But  I  thank  Him  who  hath  at  length  brought  me  out  of 
Egypt." 

In  our  day — although  we  have  many  instances  of  en- 
thusiasm among  us — we  might  still  suspect  one  who 
avowed  it  thus  suddenly  and  broadly,  of  hypocrisy,  or 
of  insanity;  but,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times, 
such  opinions  as  those  which  Bridgenorth  expressed, 
were  openly  avowed,  as  the  ruling  motives  of  men's  ac- 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  lo5 

tions.  The  sagacious  Vane — the  brave  and  skilful  Har- 
rison— were  men  who  acted  avowedly  under  the  influ- 
ence of  such.  Lady  Peveril,  therefore,  was  more  griev- 
ed than  surprised  at  the  language  she  heard  Major 
Bridgenorth  use,  and  reasonably  concluded,  that  the 
society  and  circumstances  in  which  he  might  lately 
have  been  engaged,  had  blown  into  a  flame  the  spark 
of  eccentricity  which  always  smouldered  in  his  bosom. 
This  was  the  more  probable,  considering  that  he  was 
melancholy  by  constitution  and  descent — that  he  had 
been  unfortunate  in  several  particulars — and  that  no 
passion  is  more  easily  nursed  by  indulgence,  than  the 
species  of  enthusiasm  of  which  he  now  showed  tokens. 
She,  therefore,  answered  him  by  calmly  hoping,  "  That 
the  expression  of  his  sentiments  had  not  involved  him 
in  suspicion  or  in  danger." 

"In  suspicion,  madam?"  answered  the  Major; — 
for  I  cannot  forbear  giving  to  you,  such  is  the  strength 
of  habit,"  one  of  those  idle  titles  by  which  we  poor  pot- 
sherds are  wont,  in  our  pride,  to  denominate  each  other 
— I  walk  not  only  in  suspicion,  but  in  that  degree  of 
danger,  that,  were  your  husband  to  meet  me  at  this  in- 
stant— me,  a  native  Englishman,  treading  on  my  own 
lands — I  have  no  doubt  he  would  do  his  best  to  offer 
me  to  the  Moloch  of  Romish  superstition,  who  now 
rages  abroad  for  victims  among  God's  people. 

t;  You  surprise  me  by  your  language,  Major  Bridge- 
north,"  said  the  lady,  who  now  felt  rather  anxious  to 
be  relieved  from  his  compaii}^,  and  with  that  purpose 
walked  on  somewhat  hastily.  He  mended  his  pace, 
however,  and  kept  close  by  her  side. 

"Know  you  not,"  said  he,  "that  Satan  hath  come 
down  upon  earth  with  great  wrath,  because  his  time  is 
short?  The  next  to  the  crown  is  an  avowed  Papist; 
and  who  dare  assert,  save  sycophants  and  time-servers, 
that  he  who  wears  it  is  not  equally  ready  to  stoop  to 
Rome,  were  he  not  kept  in  awe  by  a  few  noble  spirits 
in  the  Commons'  House  ?  You  believe  not  this — yet  in 
\»y  solitary  and  midnight  walks,  when  I  thought  on 
your  kindness  to   the  dead  and  to  the  living,  it  was  my 


136  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

prayer  that  I  might  have  the  means  granted  to  warn 
you — and  lp!   Heaven  hath  heard  me." 

"ftlajor  Bridgenorth.'  said  Lady  Peveril,  "you  were 
wont  U-  be  m&cierate,  in  those  sentiments — compara- 
tively moderate,  at  least,  and  to  loveyoui  own  religion, 
without  hating  that  of  others." 

'5  What  I  was  while  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  in 
the  bond  of  iniquity,  it  signifies  not  to  recal,  '  answered 
he.  t;  I  was  then  like  to  Gallio,  who  <  ared  Tor  none  of 
these  things,  i  doated  on  creature-comforts — I  clung 
to  worldly  honour  and  repute — my  thoughts  were  earth- 
ward— or  those  j  turned  to  Heaven  were  cold,  formal, 
pharasalcal  meditations — i  brought  nothing  to  the  al- 
tar savd&traw  and  stubble.  Heaven  saw  need  to  chas- 
tise me  in  Jove — J  was  stripped  of  a!I  that  i  clung  to  on 
earth — my  worldly  honour  was  torn  from  nit — 1  went 
forth  an  exile  from  the  home  oi*  my  fathers,  a  deprived 
and  a  desolate  man — a  baffled,  and  beaten,  and  disho- 
noured man.  But  who  shall  £\u\  out  the  ways  of  Pro- 
vidence ?  Such  were  the  means  by  which  I  was  chosen 
forth  as  a  champion  for  the  truth — holding  my  life  as 
nothing,  if  thereby  that  may  be  advanced.  But  this 
was  not  what  I  wished  to  speak  of.  Thou  hast  saved 
the  earthly  life  ol  my  child — let  me  save  the  eternal 
welfare  of  yours/' 

Lady  Peveril  was  silent.  They  were  now  approach- 
ing the  point  where  the  avenue  terminated  in  a  com- 
munication with  a  public  road,  oi  rather  pathway,  run- 
ning through  an  uninclosed  common  field  ;  this  the  lady 
had  to  prosecute  for  a  little  way,  until  a  turn  of  the 
path  gave  her  admittance  into  the  park  of  Martindale. 
She  now  felt  sincerely  anxious  to  be  in  the  open  moon- 
shine, and  avoided  reply  to  Bridgenorih  that  she  might 
make  the  more  haste.  But  as  they  reached  the  junc- 
tion of  the  avenue  and  the  public  road,  he  laid  his  hand 
on  her  arm,  and  commanded  rather  than  requested  her 
to  stop.  She  obeyed.  lie  pointed  to  a  huge  oak-,  of 
the  largest  size,  which  grew  on  tns  summit  of  a  knoll 
in  the  open  ground  which  terminated  the  avenue,  and 
was  exactly  so  placed  as  to  serve  for  a  termination  to 
the  vista.     The  moonshine  withe  ut  the  avenue  was  so 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    P^AK.  137 

strong,  that  amidst  the  flood  of  light  which  it  poured 
on  the  venerable  tree,  they  could  easily  discover,  from 
the  shattered  state  of  the  boughs  on  one  side,  that  it  had 
suffered  damage  from  lightning.  "Remember  you," 
lie  said,  "  when  we  last  looked  together  on  that  tree?  I 
had  ridden  from  London,  and  brought  with  me  a  pro- 
tection from  the  committee  for  your  husband  ;  and  as  I 
passed  the  spot — here  on  this  spot  where  we  now  stand, 
you  stood  with  my  lost  Alice — two — the  last  two  of  my 
beloved  infants  gambolled  before  you.  I  leaped  from 
my  horse — to  her  I  was  a  husband — to  those  a  father — 
to  you  a  welcome  and  revered  protector — What  am  I 
now  to  any  one  r"  He  pressed  his  hand  on  his  brow, 
and  groaned  in  agony  of  spirit. 

Jt  was  not  in  Lady  Peveril's  nature  to  hear  sorrow 
without  an  attempt  at  consolation.  "  Master  Bridge- 
north,"  she  said,  '•  I  blame  no  man's  creed,  while  I  be- 
lieve and  follow  my  own  ;  and  I  rejoice  that  in  yours 
you  have  sought  consolation  for  temporal  afflictions. 
But  does  not  every  Christian  creed  teach  us  alike,  that 
affliction  should  soften  our  heart  ?" 

"  Ay  woman,"  said  Bridgenorlh,  sternly,  "  as  the 
lightning  which  shattered  yonder  oak  hath  softened  its 
trunk.  No  ;  the  seared  wood  is  the  fitter  for  the  use 
of  the  workman- — the  hardened  and  the  dried-up  heart 
is  that  which  can  best  bear  the  task  imposed  by  these 
dismal  times.  God  and  man  will  no  longer  endure 
the  unbridled  profligacy  of  the  dissolute — the  scoffing 
of  the  profane — the  contempt  of  the  divine  law — the 
infraction  of  human  rights.  The  times  demand  right- 
ers  and  avengers,  and  there  will  be  no  want  of  them." 

"  I  deny  not  the  existence  of  much  evil,"  said  Lady 
Peveril,  compelling  herself  to  answer,  and  beginning 
at  the  same  time  to  walk  forward  ;  "  and  from  hearsay, 
though  not,  I  than!;  Heaven,  from  observation,  I  am 
convinced  of, the  wild  debauchery  of  the  times.  -But 
let  us  trust  it  may  be  corrected  without  such  violent 
remedies  as  you  hint  at.  Surely  the  ruin  of  a  second 
civil  war — tncugii  I  trust  your  thoughts  go  not  that 
dreadful  It  ogth — were,  at  best,  a  desperate  alternative." 

M  Sharp,  but  sure, '  replied  JBridgenorth,  "  The 
12* 


l3S  PEVEIilL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

blood  of  the  Paschal  Iamb  chased  away  the  destroying 
angel — the  sacrifices  offered  on  th<>  threshing-floor  of 
Araunah,  stayed  the  pestilence.     Fire  and  sword  are 

severe  remedies,   but  they  purge  and  purify.  ' 

"Alas!  Major  Bi -idgeiiorth,"  said  the  lady,  "wise 
and  moderate  in  your  vouih,  can  you  have  adopted  in 
your  advanced  life  the  thoughts  and  language  of  those 
whom  you  yoursell  beheld  drive  themselves  and  the  na- 
tion to  the  brink  of  ruin  r" 

"  1  know  not  what  I  then  was — you  know  not  what 
I  now  am,  "  he  replied,  and  suddenly  broke  oJf;  for 
they  even  then  came  forth  into  t lie  open  light,  and  it 
seemed  as  if,  feeling  himself  under  the  lady's  eye,  he 
was  disposed  to  soften  his  tone  and  his  language. 

At  the  first  distinct  view  which  she  had  of  his  person, 
she  was  aw  are  that  he  was  armed  with  a  short  sword, 
a  poniard,  and  pistols  at  his  belt — precautions  very 
unusual  for  a  man  who  formerly  had  seldom,  and  only 
on  days  of  ceremony,  carried  a  walking  rapier,  though 
such  was  the  habitual  and  constant  practice  of  gentle- 
men of  his  station  in  life.  There  seemed  also  some- 
thing of  more  stern  determination  than  usual  in  his  air, 
which  indeed  had  always  been  rather  sullen  than  affable ; 
and  ere  she  could  repress  the  sentiment,  she  could  not 
help  saying;  "  Master  Bridgenorth,  you  are  indeed 
changed." 

"  You.  see  but  the  outward  man,"'  he  replied  ;  "  the 
change  within  is  yet  deeper.  But  it  was  not  of  myself 
that  I  desired  to  talk — I  have  already  said,  thai  as  you 
have  preserved  my  child  from  the  darkness  ei  the  grave, 
I  would  willingly  preserve  yours  from  that  more  utter 
darkness,  which,  1  fear,  hath  involved  the  path  and 
walks  of  his  father." 

"  1  must  not  hear  this  of  Sir  Geoffrey,"  said  the  Lady 
Peveril ;  "  I  must  bid  you  farewel  for  the  present ;  and 
when  we  again  meet  at  a  more  suitable  time,  I  will  at 
least  listen  to  your  advice  concerning  Julian,  although 
I  should  not  perhaps  adopt  it." 

"  That  more  suitable  time  may  never  come,"  replied 
Bridgenorth.  "  Time  wanes,  eternit3'  draws  nigh. 
Hearken.     It  is  said  to  be  your  purpose  to  send  the 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  U'd 

young  Julian  to  be  bred  up  in  yonder  bloody  island, 
under  the  hand  of  your  kinswoman,  that  cruel  mur- 
theress,  by  whom  was  done  to  death  a  man  more  worthy 
of  vital  existence  than  any  that  she  can  boast  amongst 
her  vaunted  ancestry.  These  are  current  tidings — Arc 
they  true  ?" 

•'  I  do  not  blame  you,  Master  Bridger.orth  for  think- 
ing harshly  of  my  cousin  of  Derby,"  said  Lady  Peveri!  ; 
i{  nor  do  I  altogether  vindicate  the  rash  action  of  which 
she  hath  been  guilty.  Nevertheless,  in  her  habitation, 
it  is  my  husband's  opinion  and  my  own.  that  Julian 
may  be  trained  in  the  studies  and  Accomplishment*  be- 
coiiiing  his  rank,  along  with  the  young  Earl  of  Derby." 

•;  Under  the  curse  of  God,  and  the  blessiug  of  the 
Pope  of  Rome,"  said  Bi idgenerth.  "  You,  lady,  so 
quick-sighted  in  matters  of  earthly  prudence,  are  you 
blind  to  the  gigantic  pace  at  which  Rome  is  moving  to 
regain  this  country,  once  the  richest  gem  in  her  usurp- 
ed tiara  ?  The  old  are  seduced  by  gold — the  youth  by 
pleasure — the  weak  by  flatten- — cowards  by  fear — 
and  the  courageous  by  ambition.  A  thousand  baits 
for  each  taste,  and  each  bait  concealing  the  same  dead- 
ly hook." 

"  I  am  well  aware,  Master  Bridgenorth."  said  Lady 
Peveril,  "  that  my  kinswoman  is  a  Catholic  ;  but  her 
son  is  educated  in  the  Church  ol  England's  principles, 
agreeably  to  the  command  of  her  deceased  husband." 

•'  Is  it  likely,"  answered  Biidgeuorth,  ';  that  she  who 
fears  not  shedding  the  blood  of  the  righteous,  whether 
on  the  field  or  scaffold,  will  regard  the  sanction  of  her 
promise  when  her  religion  bids  her  break  it  ?  Or,  if 
she  does,  w  hat  shall  your  son  be  the  belter  if  he  remain 
in  the  mire  of  his  father  ?  What  are  your  Episcopal 
tenets  but  mere  Popery  ?  save  that  ye  have  chosen  a 
temporal  tyrant  for  your  Pope,  and  substitute  a  man- 
gled mass  in  English  for  that  which  your  predecessors 
pronounced  in  Latin. — But  why  speak  I  of  these  things 
to  one  who  hath  ears  indeed,  and  eyes,  yet  cannot  see, 
listen  to,  or  understand  what  is  alone  worthy  to  be 
heard,  seen,  and  known?  Pity  that  what  hath  been 
wrought  so  fair  and  exquisite  in  form  and  in  cusposi- 


140  PEVEUIL   OF    THE    PEAK, 

tion,  should  be  yet  blind,  deaf  and  ignorant,  like  the 
things  which  perish  !" 

"  We  shall  not  agree  on  these  subjects,  Master 
Bridgenorth,"  said  the  lady,  anxious  still  to  escape 
from  this  strange  conference,  though  scarce  knowing, 
what  to  apprehend;  once  more,  I  must  bid  vou  fare- 
well." 

"  Stay  yet  an  instant,"  he  said,  again  laying  his  hand 
on  her  arm  ;  "  I  would  stop  you  if  I  saw  you  rushing 
on  the  brink  of  an  actual  precipice-let  me  prevent  you 
from  a  danger  still  greater.  How  shall  I  work  upon 
your  unbelieving  mind  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  that  the  debt 
of  blood-shed  yet  remains  a  debt  to  be  paid  by  the 
bloody  house  of  Derby  ?  And  wilt  thou  send  thy  son  to 
be  among  those  from  whom  it  shall  be  exacted  ?" 

"  You  wish  to  alarm  me  in  vain,  Master  Bridge- 
north,"  answered  the  lady;  "  what  penalty  can  be  ex- 
acted from  the  Countess  for  an  action  which  I  have 
already  called  a  rash  one,  has  been  long  since  levied." 
"  You  deceive  yourself,"  retorted  he,  sternly, 
"  Think  you  a  paltry  sum  of  money,  given  to  be  wast- 
ed on  the  debaucheries  of  Charles,  can  atone  for  the 
death  of  such  a  man  as  Christian  ?  A  man  precious 
alike  to  heaven  and  to  earth  ?  Not  on  such  terms  is  the 
blood  of  the  righteous  to  be  poured  forth  !  Every 
hour's  delay  is  numbered  down  as  adding  interest  to 
the  grievous  debt,  which  will  one  day  be  required  from 
that  blood-thirsty  woman." 

At  this  moment  the  distant  tread  of  horses  was  heard 
on  the  road  on  which  they  held  this  singular  dialogue. 
Bridgenorth  listened  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  For- 
get that  you  have  seen  me — name  not  my  name  to  your 
nearest  or  dearest — lock  my  counsel  in  your  breast — 
profit  by  it,  and  it  shall  be  well  with  you." 

So  saying,  he  turned  from  her.  and  plunging  through 
a  gap  in  the  fence,  regained  the  cover  ot  his  own  wood, 
along  which  the  path  still  led. 

The  noise  of  horses  advancing  at  full  trot,  now  came 
nearer;  and  Lady  Peveril  was  aware  of  several  riders, 
whose  forms  rose  in  distinctly  on  the  summit  of  *he  ris- 
ing ground  behind  her.     She  became  also  visible  to 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  141 

thorn  ;  and  one  or  two  of  the  foremost  made  towards 
her  at  increased  speed  ?  challenging  In iv  as  they  ad- 
vanced with  the  cry  of  '* Stand  '  wl  there?" 
The  foremost  v\  ho  came  up,  however,  exclaimed,  ,{  mer- 
cy <m  u>,  if  it  be  not  my  lady!'  and  Lad)  P-veri',  at 
the  same  moment,  recognized  one  other  own  servants. 
Her  husband  rode  up  immediately  afterwards  with, 
"  How  now.  Dame  Margaret  ?  What  makes  \  ou  abroad 
so  far  from  home,  and  at  an  hour  so  late  ?'' 

Lady  Peveril  mentioned  her  visit  at  the  cottage  but 
did  not  tliink  it  necessary  to  say  aught  of  having  seen 
Major  Bridgeuorth  ;  afraid,  it  may  be,  that  her  husband 
migit  be  displeased  with  that  incident. 

••  Charity  is  a  fine  thing,  and  a  fair,"  answered  Sir 
Geoffrey  ;  "  but  I  must  tell  you,  yon  do  ill,  dame,  to 
wander  about  the  country  like  a  quack-salver,  at  the 
call  of  every  old  woman  who  has  a  cholic-fii  ;  and  at 
this  time  of  night  especially,  and  when  the  land  is  so 
unsettled  besides." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  it  is  so,'*  said  the  lady. 
"  I  had  heard   no  such  news  " 

"  News  ?"  repeated  Sir  Geoffrey  ;  "  why  here  lias  a 
new  plot  broken  out  among  the  Round-heads,  worse 
than  Venner's  by  a  butt's  length  ;  and  who  should  be 
so  deep  in  it  as  our  old  neighbour  Bridgenorth  ?  There 
is  search  for  him  every  where;  and  1  promise  you,  if 
he  is  found,  he  is  like  to  pay  old  scores." 

"  Then  1  am  sure,  I  trust  he  w  ill  not  be  found,"  said 
Lady  Peveril. 

-•  Do  you  so  r"  replied  Sir  GeorTrey>  ,f  Now,  I.  on 
my  part,  hope  that  he  will;  and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault 
it'  he  be  not  ;  for  which  effect  I  will  presently  ride 
down  to  Mcultrassie,  ami  make  strict  search,  according 
to  my  duty  ;  there  shall  neither  rebel  nor  traitor  earth 
so  near  Martindale  Castle,  that  I  will  assure  them. 
And  you,  my  lady,  be  pleased  for  once  to  dispense 
with  a  pillion,  and  get  up,  as  you  have  done  before, 
behind  Saunders,  w  ho  shall  convey  you  safe  home." 

•The  lady  obeyed  in  silence  ;  indeed  she  did  not  dare 
to  trust  ber  voice  in  an  attempt  to  reply,  so  much  was 
she  disconcerted  with  the  intelligence  she  had  Just 
heard. 


142  PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK. 

She  rode  behind  the  groom  to  the  Castle,  where  she 
awaited  in  great  anxiety  the  return  of  her  husband.  He 
came  back  at  length  ;  but  to  her  ^reat  relief,  without 
any  prisoner-  He  then  explained  more  fully  than  his 
haste  had  before  permitted,  that  an  express  had  come 
down  to  Chesterfield,  with  news  from  court  of  a  purpos- 
ed insurrection  amongst  the  old  Commonwealth  men, 
especially  those  who  have  served  in  the  army  ;  and 
that  Bridgenorth,  said  to  be  lurking  in  Derbyshire, 
was  one  of  the  principal  conspirators. 

After  some  time,  this  report  of  a  conspiracy  seemed 
to  die  away  like  many  others  of  that  period.  The  war- 
rants were  recalled,  but  nothing  more  was  seen  or 
heard  of  Major  Bridgenorth  ;  although  it  is  probable 
he  might  have  shewn  himself  as  openly  as  many  did 
who  lay  under  the  same  circumstances  of  suspicion. 

About  this  time,  also,  Lady  Peveril,  with  many  tears, 
took  a  temporary  leave  of  her  son  Julian,  who  was  sent, 
as  had  long  been  intended,  for  the  purpose  of  sharing 
the  education  of  the  young  Earl  of  Derby.  Although 
the  boding  words  of  Bridgenorth  sometimes  occurred 
to  Lady  Peveril's  mind,  she  did  not  suffer  them  to 
weigh  with  her  in  opposition  to  the  advantages,  which 
the  patronage  of  the  Countess  of  Derby  secured  to  her 
son. 

The  plan  seemed  to  be  in  every  respect  successful ; 
and  when,  from  time  to  time,  Julian  visited  the  house 
of  his  father,  Lady  Peveril  had  the  satisfaction  to  see 
him,  on  every  occasion,  improved  in  person  and  in 
manner,  as  well  as  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  more  solid 
acquirements.  In  process  of  time,  he  became  a  gal- 
lant and  accomplished  youth,  and  travelled  for  some 
time  upon  the  continent  with  the  young  Earl.  This 
was  the  more  especially  necessary  for  the  enlarging  of 
their  acquaintance  with  the  world;  because  the  Coun- 
tess had  never  appeared  in  London,  or  at  the  court  of" 
King  Charles,  since  her  flight  to  the  Isle  of  Man,  in 
1660  ;  but  had  resided  in  solitary  and  aristocratic  state, 
alternately  on  her  estates  in  England  and  in  that  island. 

This  had  given  to  the  education  of  both  the  young 
men,  otherwise  as  excellent  as  the  best  teachers  could 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  143 

render  it,  something  of  a  narrow  and  restricted  char- 
acter ;  but  though  the  disposition  of  the  young  Earl 
was  lighter  and  more  volatile  than  that  of  Julian,  both 
the  one  and  the  other  had  profitted,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  by  the  opportunities  afforded  them.  It  was 
Lady  Derby's  strict  injunction  to  her  son,  now  return- 
ing from  the  continent,  that  he  should  not  appear  at 
the  court  of  Charles.  But  having  been  for  some  time 
of  age,  he  did  not  think  it  absolutely  necessary  to  obey 
her  in  this  particular;  and  had  remained  for  some  time 
in  London,  partaking  the  pleasures  of  the  gay  court 
there,  with  all  the  ardour  of  a  young  man  bred  up  in 
comparative  seclusion. 

In  order  to  reconcile  the  Countess  to  this  trans 
gression  of  her  authority,  (for  he  continued  to  enter- 
tain for  her  the  profound  respect  in  which  he  had  been 
educated,)  Lord  IJerby  agreed  to  make  a  long  sojourn 
with  her  in  her  favourite  island,  which  he  abandoned 
almost  entirely  to  her  management. 

Julian  Peveril  had  spent  at  Marlindale  Castle  a  good 
deal  of  the  time  which  his  friend  had  bestowed  in  Lon- 
don;  and  at  the  period  to  which,  passing  over  many 
years,  our  story  has  arrived,  as  it  were,  per  solium,  they 
were  both  living  as  the  Countess's  guests,  in  the  Castle 
of  Kushin,  in  the  venerable  kingdom  of  Man. 


144  PEVER1L  OF  THE    PEAK- 


CHAPTER  XI, 


Mona — long  hid  from  those  who  roam  the  main. 

Collins. 


The  Isle  of  Mai),  in  the  midst  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, was  something  \evy  different,  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence, from  what  it  is  now  Men  had  not  discovered 
its  merit,  as  a  place  of  occasional  refuge  from  the 
storms  of  life,  and  the  society  to  bo  there  met  with  was 
of  a  very  uniform  tenor.  There  were  no  smart  fellows, 
whom  fortune  had  tumbled  from  the  seat  of  their  ba- 
rouches— no  |  lucked  pi-eons,  or  winged  rooks — no 
disappointed  speculators — no  ruined  miners — in  short, 
no  one  worth  talking  to.  The  society  of  the  islam]  was 
limited  to  the  natives  themselves,  and  a  iew  merchants, 
who  lived  by  contraband  trade.  The  amusements  w  ere 
rare  and  monotonous,  and  the  mercurial  young  Earl 
was  soon  heartily  tired  ol  his  dominions 

Julian  was  seated  in  the  d<ep  recess  which  led  to  a 
latticed  window  of  the  Old  Castle ;  and,  with  his  arms 
crossed,  and  an  air  of  profound  contemplation,  was 
surveying  the  long  perspective  of  ocean,  which  rolled 
its  successive  wav  s  up  to  the  foot  of  the  rock  on  which 
the  ancient  pile  is  founded.  The  Earl  was  suffering 
under  the  infliction  of  ennui — now  looking  into  a  vol- 
ume of  Homer — now  whistling — now  swinging  on  his 
chair — now  traversing  the  room — till,  at  length,  his 
attention  become  swallowed  up  in  admiration  of  the 
tranquillity  of  his  companion. 

"King  of  Men!"'  he  said,  repealing  the  favorite 
epithet  by  which  Homer  describes  Agamemnon, —  '  I 
trust,  for  the  old  Greek's  sake,  lie  had  a  merrier  office 
than  being  King  of  Mari —  Most  philosophical  Juian, 
will  nothing  rouse  thee — not  even  a  bad  pun  on  my 
own  royal  dignity  ?  ' 


PEVERIL  OF   THE    PEAK.  14i) 

Cl  I  wish  you  would  be  a  little  more  the  King  in 
Man,"  said  Julian,  starling  from  liis  reverie,  "  and 
then  you  would  find  more  amusement  in  your  do- 
minions.*" 

"  What?  dethrone-  that  royal  Semiramis,  my  mo- 
ther," said  the  young  lord  ';  who  has  as  much  plea- 
sure in  playing  Queen  as  if  she  were  a  real  Sove- 
reign ? — I  wonder  you  can  give  me  such  counsel." 

"  Your  mother,  as  you  well  know,  my  dear  Derby, 
would  be  delighted,  did  you  take  any  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  island." 

"  Ay,  truly,  she  would  permit  me  to  be  King:  but 
she  would  choose  to  remain  Viceroy  over  me.  Why, 
she  would  only  gain  a  subject  the  more,  by  my  con- 
verting my  spare  time,  which  is  so  very  valuable  to  me, 
to  the  cares  of  royalty  No,  no,  Julian,  she  thinks  it 
power  to  direct  all  the  petty  affairs  of  these  poor 
Manxmen;  and,  thinking  it  power,  she  finds  its  plea- 
sure. I  shall  not  interfere,  unless  she  hold  a  high 
court  of  justice  again.  I  cannot  afford  to  pay  another 
fine  to  my  brother,  King  Charles — But  I  forget — this 
is  a  sore  point  with  you  " 

"  With  the  Countess,  at  least,"  replied  Julian ; 
"  and  I  wonder  you  will  speak  of  it." 

"  Why,  I  bear  no  malice  against  the  poor  man's 
memory  any  more  than  yourself,  though  1  have  not 
the  same  reasons  for  holding  it  in  veneration,"  replied 
the  Earl  of  Derby  ;  M  and  yet  I  have  some  respect  for 
it  too.  I  remember  their  bringing  him  out  to  die — It 
was  the  first  holiday  I  ever  had  in  my  life,  and  I 
heartily  wish  it  had  been  on  some  other  account." 

"  I  would  lather  hear  you  speak  of  any  thing  else, 
my  lord,"  said  Julian 

"  VVhy,  there  it  goes,"  answered  the  Earl ;  "  when- 
ever I  talk  of  any  thing  that  puts  you  on  your  metal, 
and  warms  your  blood,  that  runs  as  cold  as  a  mer- 
man's— to  use  a  simile  of  this  happy  island — Hey  pass! 
you  press  me  to  change  the  subject. — Well,  what  shall 
we  talk  of. — O,  Julian,  if  you  had  not  gone  down  t« 
earth  yourself  among  the  castles  and  caverens  of  Der- 
byshire, we  should  have  had  enough  of  delicious  topics 

13 


146  "PEVERtL  OF    THE  PEAK. 

— the  play-houses,  Julian — Both  the  King's  house  and 
the  Duke's — Louis's  establishment  is  a  jest  to  them; — 
and  the  Ring  in  the  Park,  which  beats  the  Corso  at 
Naples — and  the  beauties,  who  beat  the  whole  world." 

"  1  am  very  willing  to  hear  you  speak  on  the  subject, 
my  lord,"  answered  Julian  ;  "  the  less  I  have  seen  of 
the  London  world  myself,  the  more  1  am  like  to  be 
amused  by  your  account  of  it." 

"  Ay.  my  friend — but  where  to  begin  ? — with  the  wit 
of  Bukingham,  and  Sedley,  and  Ktheredge,  or  with  the 
grace  of  Harry  Jermyn — the  courtesy  of  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth,  or  with  the  love!iness  of  La  Belle  Hamil- 
ton— of  the  Dutchess  of  Richmond — of  Lady .the 

person  of  Roxalana,  the  smart  humour  of  Mrs. 
Nelly " 

"  Or  what  say  you  to  the  bewitching  sorceries  of 
Lady  Cynthia  ?"  demanded  his  companion. 

"  Fajui,  i  would  have  kept  these  to  myself,  to  fol- 
low your  prudent  example.  But  since  you  ask  me,  I 
fairly  own  1  cannot  tell  what  to  say  of  them  ;  only  I 
think  of  them  twenty  times  as  often  as  all  the  beauties 
I  have  spoke  of.  And  yet  she  is  neither  the  twentieth 
part  so  beautiful  as  the  plainest  of  these  court  beauties, 
nor  so  witty  as  the  dullest  have  named,  nor  so  modish 
— that  is  the  great  matter — as  the  most  obscure.  I 
cannot  tell  what  makes  me  doat  on  her,  except  that 
she  is  as  capricious  as  her  whole  sex  put  together." 

"  That  I  should  think  a  smaii  recommendation,"  an- 
swered his  companion. 

"  Small,  do  you  term  it,"  answered  the  Earl,  "  and 
write  yourself  a  brother  of  the  angle  ?  Why,  which  like 
you  best  ?  To  pull  a  dead  strain  on  a  miserable  gud- 
eon,  which  you  draw  ashore  by  main  force,  as  the 
feliows  here  tow  in  their  fisiiing  boats — or  alivel)  sal- 
mon, that  makes  your  rod  ci  ack,  aild  your  Sine  whistle — 
piay  you  ten  thousand  mischievous  pranks — wearies 
your  heart  out  with  hopes  and  fears—  laid 

panting  on  the  bank,   after  )ou   have  t 

unmatchable  display  of  skiH,patience,am  >  t — 

Bit  I  see  you  have  a  mind  lo  go  on  anp  our 

0wa  oid  fashion.     Oh  laced   coat,   an 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  14?r 

kin  ; — lively  colours  scare  fish  in  the  sober  waters  of 
the  Isle  of  Man  ; — faith,  in  London  you  will  catch  few, 
unless  the  bait  glistens  a  little.  But  you  are  going  ? — 
well,  good  luck  to  you.  I  will  take  to  the  barge  ; — 
the  sea  and  wind  are  less  inconstant  than  the  tide  you 
have  embarked  on." 

'k  You  have  learned  to  say  all  these  smart  things  in 
London,  ray  lord,"  answered  Julian  ;  '*'  but  we  shall 
have  you  a  penitent  for  them,  if  Lady  Cynthia  be  of  my 
mind      Adieu,  and  pleasure  tiii  we  meet.5' 

The  \oung  men  parted  accordingly;  and  while  the 
Earl  betook  him  to  his  pleasure  voyage,  Julian,  as  his 
friend  had  prophesied,  assumed  the  dress  of  one  who 
means  to  amuse  himself  with  angling.  The  hat  and 
feather  were  exchanged  for  a  cap  of  grey  cloth  ;  the 
deeply  laced  cloak  and  doublet  for  a  simple  jacket  of 
the  same  colour,  with  hose  conforming  ;  and  finally, 
with  rod  in  hand,  and  panier  at  his  back,  mounted 
upon  a  handsome  Manx  poney,  young  Peveril  rode 
briskly  over  the  country  which  divided  him  from  one 
of  those  beautiful  streams,  that  descend  to  the  sea  from 
the  Kirk-Merlagh  mountains. 

Having  reached  the  spot  where  he  meant  to  com- 
mence his  day's  sport,  Julian  let  his  little  steed  graze,, 
which,  accustomed  to  the  situation,  followed  him  like 
a  dog  ;  and  now  and  then,  when  tired  of  picking  her- 
bage in  the  valley  through  which  the  stream  winded, 
came  near  his  master's  side,  and,  as  if  he  had  been  a 
curious  amateur  of  the  sport,  gazed  on  the  trouts  as 
Julian  brought  them  struggling  to  the  shore.  But  Fai- 
ry's master  showed,  on  that  day,  little  of  the  patience 
ef  a  real  angler,  and  took  no  heed  to  old  Isaac  Wal- 
ton's recommendation,  to  fi»h  the  streams  inch  by  inch. 
He  choose,  indeed,  with  an  angler's  eye,  the  most  pro- 
mising casts,  where  the  stream  broke  sparkling  over  a 
stone,  affording  the  wonted  shelter  to  a  trout ;  or  where, 
gliding  away  from  a  rippling  current  to  a  still  eddy,  it 
streamed  under  the  projecting  bank,  or  dashed  from 
the  pool  of  some  low  cascade.  By  this  judicious  selec- 
tion of  spots  whereon  to  employ  his  art,  the  sportsman's 
basket  was  soou  sufficiently  heavy,  to  show  that  his  Ov- 


148  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

cupation  was  not  a  mere  pretext;  and  so  soon  as  this 
was  the  case,  he  walked  briskly  up  the  glen,  only  mak- 
ing a  cast  from  time  to  time,  in  case  of  his  being  ob- 
served from  any  of  the  neighbouring  heights. 

It  was  a  little  green  and  rocky  valley  through  which 
the  brook  strayed,  very  lonely,  although  the  slight  track 
of  an  unformed  road  showed  that  it  was  occasionally- 
traversed,  and  that  it  w  as  not  altogether  void  of  inhabi- 
tants. As  Peveril  advanced  still  farther,  the  right  bank 
reached  to  some  distance  from  the  stream,  leaving  a 
piece  of  meadow  ground,  the  lower  part  of  which  being 
dose  to  the  brook,  was  entirely  covered  with  rich  herb- 
age ;  being,  possibly,  occasionally  irrigated  by  its 
overflow.  The  higher  part  of  the  level  ground  afforded 
a  stance  for  an  old  house,  of  a  singular  structure,  with 
a  terraced  garden,  and  a  cultivated  field  or  two  beside 
it.  In  former  times,  a  Danish  or  Norwegian  fastness 
had  stood  here,  called  the  Black-Fort,  from  the  colour 
of  a  large  heathy  hill,  which,  rising  behind  the  build- 
ing, appeared  to  be  the  boundary  of  the  valley,  and  to 
afford  the  source  of  the  brook.  But  the  original  struc- 
ture had  been  long  demoli>hed,  as,  indeed,  it  probably- 
only  consisted  of  dry  stones,  and  its  materials  had 
been  applied  to  the  construction  of  the  present  man- 
sion -the  work  of  some  churchman,  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  as  was  evident  from  the  huge  stone-work  of 
its  windows,  which  scarce  left  room  for  light  to  pass 
through,  as  well  as  from  two  or  three  heavy  buttresses, 
which  projected  from  the  front  of  the  house,  and  ex- 
hibited on  their  surface  little  niches  for  images.  These 
had  been  carefully  destroyed,  and  pots  of  flowers  were 
placed  in  the  niches  in  their  stead,1  besides  their  being 
ornamented  by  creeping  plants  of  various  kinds,  fan- 
cifully twined  around  them.  The  garden  was  also  in 
good  order;  and  though  the  spot  was  extremely  soli- 
tary,  there  was  about  it  altogether  an  air  of  comfort, 
accommodation,  and  even  elegance,  by  no  means  gen- 
erally characteristic  of  the  habitations  of  the  island  at 
that  time. 

With  much  circumspection,  Julian  Peveril  approach- 
ed the  low  Gothic  porch,  which  defended  the  entrance 


PETERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  149 

of  the  mansion  from  the  tempests  incident  to  its  situa- 
tion, and  was,  like  the  buttresses,  overrun  with  ivy  and 
other  creeping  plants.  An  iron  ring,  contrived  so  as 
when  drawn  up  and  down  to  rattle  against  the  bar  of 
notched  iron  through  which  it  was  suspended,  served 
the  purpose  of  a  knocker;  and  to  this  he  applied  him- 
self, though  with  the  greatest  precaution. 

He  received  no  answer  for  some  time,  and  indeed  it 
seemed  as  if  the  house  was  totally  uninhabited  ;  when, 
at  length  his  impatience  getting  the  upper  hand,  he 
tried  to  open  the  door,  and  as  it  was  only  upon  the 
latch,  very  easily  succeeded.  He  passed  through  a  lit- 
tle low-arched  hall,  the  upper  end  of  which  was  occu- 
pied by  a  staircase,  and  turning  to  the  left,  opened  the 
door  of  a  summer  parlour,  wainscotted  with  black  oak, 
and  vevy  simply  furnished  with  chairs  and  tables  of  the 
same  materials  ;  the  former  cushioned  with  leather. 
The  apartment  was  gloomy — one  of  those  stone  shaft- 
ed windows  which  we  have  mentioned,  with  its  small 
latticed  panes,  and  thick  garland  of  foliage,  admitting 
but  an  imperfect  light. 

Over  the  chimney-piece  (which  was  of  the  same  mas- 
sive materials  with   the  pannelling  of  the  apartment,) 
was  the  only  ornament  of  the  room  ;  a  painting,  name- 
ly, representing  an  officer  in  the  military  dress  of  the 
Civil  Wars  ;  the  short  band  which  hung   down  on  the 
cuirass — his  orange-coloured  scarf,  but    above  all,  the 
shortness  of  his   close-cut    hair,  showing    evidently  to 
which  of  the  great  parties  he  had  belonged.     His  right 
hand    rested  on  the  hilt    of  his  sword  ;  and  in  the  left 
he  had  a  small  Bible,  bearing  the  inscription,  "  In  hoc 
signo."     The  countenance  was  of  an  olive  complexion, 
with  deep   black  eyes,   an  oval    form  of  face — one   of 
those    physiognomies,  to  which,  though  not   otherwise 
unpleasiri£,  we  naturally  attach  the  idea  of  melancho- 
ly and  of  misfortune.     Apparently    it  was  well  known 
to  Julian  Peveril ;  for,  alter  having   looked  at  it  for  a 
Ions;  time,    he    could    not    forbear    muttering  aloud, 
"  What  would  I   give  that  tiiat   man  had    never  been 
born,  or  that  he  still  lived  !  " 

"How  now — how  is  this?"  said  a  female,  who  enter* 
13* 


159  FEVEIUL    OF    THE    TEAK. 

cd  the  room  as  he  uttered  this  reflection.     "  You  here 
•Master  Peveril,  in  spite  of  all  tin1   warnings  you  have 
had  ?  You  here,  in  the  possession  of  folk's  house  when 
they  are    abroad,  and  talking  to  yourself,  as  I  shall 
warrant." 

"  Yes,  Mistress  Deborah,"  said  Peveril,  4: 1  am  here 
once  more,  as  you  see,  against  every  prohibition,  and 
in  defiance  of  all  danger, —  Where  is  Alice?" 

"  Where  you  will  never  see  her,  Master  Julian — you 
may  satisfy  yourself  of  that"  answered  Mistress  De- 
borah, for  it  was  that  respectable  gouvernaute  ;  and 
sisiking  down  at  the  same  time  upon  one  of  the  large 
leathern  chairs,  the  began  to  tan  herself  with  her  hand- 
kerchief, and  complain  of  the  heat  in  a  most  ladylike 
fashion 

In  fact,  Mistress  Debbitch,  while  her  exterior  inti- 
mated a  considerable  change  of  condition  for  the  better, 
and  her  countenance  shewed  the  less  favourable  effects 
of  the  twenty  years  which  had  passed  over  her  head, 
was,  in  mind  and  manners,  very  much  what  she  had 
been  when  she  battled  the  opinions  of  Madam  Elles- 
more  at  Martiiidale  Castle.  In  a  word,  she  was  self- 
willed,  obstinate,  and  coquetish  as  ever,  otherwise  no 
ill-disposed  person.  Her  present  appearance  was  that 
of  a  woman  of  the  better  rank.  From  the  sobriety  of 
the  fashion  of  her  dress,  and  the  uniformity  of  its  colors, 
it  was  plain  she  belonged  to  some  sect  which  condemn- 
ed superfluous  gaiety  in  attire  ;.but  no  rules,  not  those 
of  a  nunnery  or  of  a  quakers  society,  can  prevent  a 
little  coquetry  in  that  particular,  where  a  woman  is  de- 
sirous of  being  supposed  to  retain  some  claim  to  per- 
sonal attention.  All  Mistress  Deborah's  garments  were 
so  arranged  as  might  best  set  off  a  good-looking  woman, 
whose  countenance  indicated  ease  and  good  cheer — 
who  called  herself  five-and-thirty,  and  was  well  enti- 
tled, if  she  had  a  mind,  to  call  herself  twelve  or  fifteen 
years  older. 

Julian  was  under  the  necessity  of  enduring  all  her 
tiresome  and  fantastic  airs,  and  awaiting  with  patience 
till  she  had  "  prinked  herself  and  pinned  herself"—- 
>U.ing  her  hoods  back,  and  draw  n  them  forward — snuff- 


PEVEKIL  OF    THE    PEAK.  151 

ed  at  a  little  bottle  of  essences- -closed  her  eyes  like 
a  dying  fowl — turned  them  up  like  a  duck  in  a  thunder 
storm  ;  when  at  length,  having  exhausted  her  round  of 
mmuuu'erics,  she  condescended  to  open  the  conversation. 

•l  The  walks  will  be  the  death  of  me,"'  she  said,  "  and 
all  on  your  account.  .Master  Julian  Peverii;  for  if  Dame 
Christian  should  learn  that  you  have  chosen  to  make 
your  visits  to  her  niece,  I  promise  you  Mrs.  Alice  would 
be  soon  obliged  to  find  other  quarters,  and  so  should  I.5' 

"Come  now,  Mrs  Deborah,  be  good-humoured,'  said 
Julian  ;  u  consider,  was  not  all  this  intimacy  of  ours  of 
your  own  making?  Did  you  not  make  yourself  known 
to  me  the  very  firs*  time  1  strolled  up  this  glen  with  my 
fishing-rod,  and  tel!  n.e  that  you  were  my  former  keeper, 
an.i  that  Alice  had  been  my  little  play-fellow?  And  what 
could  there  be  more  natural,  than  that  I  should  come 
back  and  see  two  such  agieeable  persons  as  often  as  I 
could  f ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Dame  Deborah  ;  "  but  I  did  not  t^d  you 
fall  in  love  with  us  though,  or  propose  such  a  matter 
as  marriage  either  to  Alice  or  myself" 

"  To  do  you  justice,  you  never  did,  Deborah,"  an- 
swered the  youth  ;  vl  but  what  of  that  ?  Such  things  will 
come  out  before  one  is  aware.  I  am  sure  you  must 
have  heard  such  proposals  fifty  times  when. you  least 
expected  them." 

"  Fie,  fie,  fie,  Master  Julian  Peverii,"  said  the  gou- 
vernante;  "  I  would  have  you  to  know  that  I  have  al- 
ways so  behaved  myself,  that  the  best  of  the  land  would 
have  thought  twice  of  it ;  and  have  very  well  consider- 
ed both  what  he  was  going  to  say,  and  How  he  was  go- 
ing to  sav  it,  before  he  came  out  with  such  proposals  to 
me." 

"True,  true,  Mistress  Deborah,"  continued  Julian  ; 
"  but  all  the  world  have  not  your  discretion.  Then 
Alice  Bridgenorth  is  a  child — a  mere  child  ;  and  one 
always  asks  a  baby  to  be  one's  little  wife,  you  know. 
Come,  I  know  you  will  forgive  me.  Thou  wert  ever 
the  best  natured,  kindest  woman  in  the  world  ;  and  you 
know  you  have  said  twenty  times  we  were  made  for 
each  other." 


152  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEA^. 

"  ()  no,  Master  Julian  Peveril  ;  no,  no,  no  ?"  ejacu- 
lated Deborah.  "  I  may  indeed  have  said  your  estates 
were  born  to  be  united  ;  and  to  be  sure  it  is  natural  to 
me;  that  come  of  the  old  stock  of  the  honest  yeomanry 
of  Peveril  of  the  Peak's  estate,  to  wish  that  it  was  all 
within  the  ring  fence  again  ;  which  sure  enough  it  might 
be.  were  you  to  marry  Alice  Bridgenorth.  But  then 
there  is  the  knight  your  father,  and  my  lady  your  mo- 
ther; and  there  is  her  father,  that  is  half  crazy  with 
his  religion  ;  and  her  aunt,  that  wears  eternal  black 
grogravn  for  that  unlucky  Colonel  Christian  :  and  there 
is  the  Countess  of  Derby  that  would  serve  us  ail  with 
the  same  sauce  if  we  were  thinking  of  any  thing  that 
would  displease  her.  And  besides  all  that,  you  have 
broke  your  word  with  Mistress  Alice,  and  every  thing 
is  over  between  you  ;  and  I  am  of  opinion  it  is  quite 
right  it  should  be  all  over.  And  perhaps  it  may  be, 
Master  Julian,  that  I  should  have  thought  so  a  long  time 
ago,  before  a  child  like  Alice  put  it  into  my  head  ;  but 
1  am  so  good-natured-" 

No  flatterer  like  a  lover,  who  wishes  to  carry  Lis 
point. 

"  You  are  the  best-natured,  kindest  creature  in  the 
world,  Deborah  — But  you  have  never  seen  the  ring  I 
bought  for  you  at  Paris.  Nay,  I  will  put  it  on  your 
finger  myself; — what!  your  foster  son,  whom  you  loved 
so  well,  and  took  such  care  of?" 

He  easily  succeeded  in  putting  a  pretty  ring  of  gold, 
with  a  humourous  affectation  of  gallantry,  on  the  fat 
linger  of  Mistress  Deborah  Debbitch.  tier's  was  a 
soul  of  a  kind  often  to  be  met  with,  both  among  the 
lower  and  higher  vulgar,  who,  without  being  on  a  broad 
scale,  accessible  to  bribes  or  corruption,  are  neverthe- 
less much  attached  to  perquisites,  and  considerably 
biassed  in  their  line  of  duty,  though  perhaps  insensibly, 
by  the  love  of  petty  observances,  petty  presents,  and 
trivial  compliments.  Mistress  Debbitch  turned  the  ring 
round,  and  round,  and  round,  and  at  length  said,  in 
a  whisper,  "Well  Master  Julian  Peveril,  it  signifies 
nothing  denying  an}'  tiling  to  such  a  young  gentleman 
as  you,  for  young  gentlemen  are  always  so  obstinate  ! 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  15£ 

and  so  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  that  Mistress  Alice  walk- 
ed back  from  Kirk-Truagh  along  with  me,  just  now, 
and  entered  the  house  at  the  same  time  with  myself." 

'•  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  so  before?"  said  Julian, 
starting  up;  '*  where— where  is  she?" 

"  You  had  better  ask  why  1  tell  you  so  noiv.  Master 
Julian,"  said  Dame  Deborah  ;  "  for  I  promise  you,  it 
is  against  her  express  commands  ;  and  I  would  not  have 
told  you,  had  you  not  looked  so  pitiful ;--  but  as  for 
seeing  you,  that  she  will  not— and  she  is  in  her  own 
bed-room,  with  a  good  oak  door  shut  and  bolted  upon 
her—  that  is  one  comfort.— And  so,  as  for  any  breach 
of  trust  on  my  part— -I  promise  you  the  little  saucy 
minx  gives  it  no  less  name— it  is  quite  impossible." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  Deborah— only  go— only  try — tell 
her  to  hear  me- -tell  her  I  have  a  hundred  excuses  for 
disobeying  her  commands— tell  her  I  have  no  doubt 
to  get  over  all  obstacles  at  Martindale  Castle." 

"  Nay,  I  tell  you  it  is  all  in  vain,"  replied  the  dame. 
tt  When  I  saw  your  cap  and  rod  lying  in  the  hall,  I  did 
but  say,  '  there  he  is  again,'  and  she  ran  up  the  stairs 
like  a  young  deer  ;  and  I  heard  key  turned,  and  bolt 
shot,  ere  I  could  say  a  single  word  to  stop  her — I  mar- 
vel you  heard  her  not" 

"  It  was  because  I  am,  as  I  ever  was,  an  owl — a 
dreaming  fool,  who  let  all  those  golden  minutes  pass, 
which  my  luckless  life  holds  out  to  me  so  rarely  — Well 
— tell  her  I  go — go  for  ever — go  where  she  will  hear 
no  more  of  me — where  no  one  shall  hear  more  of  me." 

"  O,  the  Father !"  said  the  dame,  "  hear  how  he 
talks  ! — What  will  become  of  Sir  Geoffrey,  and  your 
mother,  and  of  me,  and  of  the  Countess,  if  you  were  to 
go  so  far  as  you  talk  of?  And  what  would  become  of 
poor  Alice  too  ?  for  1  will  be  sworn  she  likes  you  bet- 
ter than  she  says,  and  I  know  she  used  to  sit  and  look 
the  way  that  yon  used  to  come  up  the  stream,  and  now 
and  then  ask  me  if  the  morning  was  good  for  fishing. 
And  all  the  while  you  were  on  the  Continent,  as  they 
call  it,  she  scarcely  smiled  once,  unless  it  was  when 
she*  got  these  two  beautiful  long  letters  about  foreign 
parts." 


154  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

1  Friendships  Dame  Deborah — only  friendship — cold 
and  calm  remembrance  of  one  who,  by  your  kind  per- 
mission, stoie  in  on  your  solitude  now  and  then,  with 
news  from  the  Living  world  without. — Once,  indeed,  I 
thought — but  it  is  all  over — farewel." 

So  saying,  he  covered  his  face  with  one  hand,  and 
extended  the  other,  in  the  act  of  bidding  adieu  to  Dame 
Debbitch.  whose  kind  heart  became  unable  to  withstand 
the  sight  of  his  affliction. 

"  Now,  do  not  be  in  such  haste,"  she  said  ;  "  1  will 
go  up  again,  and  tell  her  how  it  stands  with  you,  and 
bring  her  down,  if  it  is  in  woman's  power  to  do  it." 

And  so  saying,  she  left  the  apartment  and  ran  up 
stairs. 

Julian  Peveril,  meanwhile,  paced  the  apartment  in 
great  agitation,  waiting  the  success  of  Deborah's  inter- 
cession ;  and  she  remained  long  enough  absent  to  give 
us  time  to  explain,  in  a  short  retrospect,  the  circum- 
stances which  had  led  to  his  present  situation. 


eilAPTER  XII. 


Alt  me  !  for  an°ht  that  ever  T  eould  read> 

Could  ever  bear  by  tale  or  history, 

The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth  ! 

Midsummer  Night'*  Dream. 


The  celebrated  passage  which  we  have  prefixed  to 
this  chapter,  has,  like  most  observations  of  the  same 
author,  its  foundation  in  real  experience.     The  period 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  155 

•at  which  love  is  felt  most  strongly,  is  seldom  that  at 
which  there  is  much  prospect  of  its  being  brought  to  a 
happy  issue.  The  state  of  artificial  society  opposes 
inan3'  con. plicated  obstructions  to  early  marriagies; 
and  the  chance  is  very  great,  that  such  obstacles  prove 
insurmountable.  In  fine,  there  are  few  men  who  do 
not  look  back  in  secret  to  souse  period  of  their  youth, 
at  which  a  sincere  and  early  affect  ion  was  repulsed,  or 
betrayed,  or  became  abortive  from  Opposing  circum- 
stances. It  is  these  jittie  passages  of  secret  history, 
which  leave  a  tinge  of  romance  in  every  bosom,  scarce 
permitting  us,  even  in  the  most  busy  or  the  most  ad- 
vanced period  of  life,  to  listen  with  total  indifference  to 
a  tale  of  true  love. 

Julian  Pcveril  had  so  fixed  his  affections,  as  to  ensure 
the  fullest  share  of'that  opposition  which  early  attach- 
ments are  so"  apt  to  encounter  Yet  nothing  so  natural 
as  that  he  should  have  clone  so.  In  early  youth,.  Dame 
Debbitch  had  accidently  met  with  the  son  of  her  first 
patroness,  and  who  had  himself  been  her  earliest  charge, 
fishing  in  the  little  brook  already  noticed,  w  hich  water- 
ed the  valley  in  which  she  resided  with  Alice  Bridge- 
north.  The  dame  s  curiosity  easily  discovered  who  he 
whs;  and  besides  the  interest  which  persons  in  her  con- 
dition usually  take  in  the  young  people  w  ho  have  been 
under  their  charge,  she  was  delighted  with  the  oppor- 
tunity to  talk  about  former  times — about  Martindale 
Castfe,  and  friends  there — about  Sir  Geoffrey  and  his 
good  I  ad  v — and  now  and  then,  about  Lance  Outran), 
the  park- keeper. 

'i  ne  mere  pleasure  of  gratifying  her  Inquiries,  would 
scarce  have  had  power  enough  to  induce  Julian  to  re- 
peat his  visits  to  the  lonely  glen;  but  Deborah  had  a 
companion — a  i<>\<  ly  girl-^bied  in  solitude,  and  in  the 
quiet  and  unpretending  tastes  which  solitude  encour- 
ages— spirited* also  and  inquisitive,  and  listening  with 
4  laughing  cheek,  and  an  eager  eye,  to  every  tale 
the  young  angkr  brought  from  the  town  and 
castle. 


156  PL\ERIL   OF    TTiE    PE,'K. 

The  visits  of  Julian  to  the  Black-Fort  were  only  oc- 
casional— so  far  Dame  Deborah  showed  common 
sense — which  was,  perhaps,  inspired  by  the  apprehen- 
sion of  losing  her  place,  in  case  of  discovery.  She  had, 
indeed,  great  confidence  in  the  strong  and  rooted  be- 
lief— amounting  almost  to  superstition — which  Major 
Bridgcnorth  entertained,  that  his  daughters  continu- 
ed health  could  only  be  ensured  by  her  continuing  un- 
der the  charge  of  one  who  had  acquired  Lady  Peveril's 
supposed  skill  in  treating  those  subject  to  such  aliments. 
This  belief  Dame  Deboiah  had  improved  to  the  ut- 
most of  her  simple  cunning, — always  speaking  in  some- 
thing of  an  oracular  tone,  upon  the  subject  of  her 
charge's  health,  and  hinting  at  certain  myterious  rules 
necessary  to  maintain  it  in  the  present  favourable  state. 
She  had  availed  herself  of  this  artifice,  to  procure  for 
herself  and  Alice  a  separate  establishment  at  the  Black- 
Fort ;  for  it  was  originally  Major  Bridgenorth's  reso- 
lution, that  his  daughter  and  her  gouvernante  should 
remain  under  the  same  roof  with  the  sister-in-law  of 
his  deceased  wife,  the  widow  of  the  unfortunate  Colo- 
nel Christian.  But  this  lady  was  broken  down  with 
premature  age,  brought  on  by  sorrow  ;  and,  in  a  short 
visit  which  Major  Bridgenorth  made  to  the  island,  he 
was  easily  prevailed  on  to  consider  her  house  at  Kirk- 
Truagh,  as  a  very  cheerless  residence  for  his  daugh- 
ter. Dame  Deborah,  who  longed  for  domestic  inde- 
pendence, was  careful  to  increase  this  impression  by 
alarming  the  patron's  fears  on  account  of  Alice's  health. 
"The  mansion  of  Kirk-Truagh  stood,  she  said,  much 
exposed  to  the  Scottish  winds,  which  could  not  but  be 
cold,  as  they  came  from  a  country  where  there  was  ice 
and  snow  at  midsummer.''  In  short,  she  prevailed,  and 
was  put  in  full  possession  of  Black-Fort,  a  house  which, 
as  well  as  Kirk-Truagh,  belonged  formerly  to  Christian, 
and  now  to  his  widow. 

Still,  however,  it  was  enjoined  on  the  gouvernante 
and  her  charge,  to  visjl  Kirk-Truagh  From  time  to  time, 
and  to  consider  themselves  as  under  the  management 
and    guardianship    of  Mistress    Christian a    state 


TEVEKIL    OB    THE    PEAK.  J<37 

of  subjection,  the  sense  of  which  Deborah  endea- 
voured to  lessen,  by  assuming  as  much  freedom  of 
conduct  as  she  possibly  dared,  under  the  influence, 
doubtless,  of  the  same  feeling  of  independence  which 
induced  her,  at  Martindale  Hali,  to  spurn  the  advice 
of  Mistress  Ellesmere. 

It  was  this  generous  disposition  to  defy  control 
which  induced  her  to  procure  for  Alice,  secretly, 
some  means  of  education,  which  the  stern  genius  of 
puritanism  would  have  proscribed.  She  ventured  to 
have  her  charge  taught  music — nay,  even  dancing; 
and  the  picture  of  the  stern  Colonel  Christian  trem- 
bled on  the  wainscot  where  it  was  suspended,  while 
the  sylph-like  form  of  Alice,  and  the  substantial  per- 
son of  Dame  Deborah,  executed  French  chaussees  and 
horees,  to  the  sound  of  a  small  kit,  which  screamed 
under  the  bow  of  Monsieur  de  Pigal,  half  smuggler, 
half  dancing-master.  This  abomination  reached  the 
ears  of  the  Colonel's  widow,  and  by  her  was  commu- 
nicated to  Bridgenorth,  whose  sudden  appearance  in 
the  island  showed  the  importance  he  attached  to  the 
communication.  Had  she  been  faithless  to  her  own 
cause,  that  had  been  the  latest  hour  of  Mistress 
Deborah's  administration.  But  she  retreated  into 
ber  strong-hold. 

"  Dancing,"  she  said,  "  was  exercise,  regulated  and 
timed  by  music  ;  and  it  stood  to  reason,jthat  it  must 
be  the  best  of  all  exercise  for  a  delicate  person,  espe- 
cially as  it  could  be  taken  within  doors,  and  in  all 
states  of  the  weather." 

Bridgenorth  listened,  with  a  clouded  and  thought- 
ful brow,  when,  in  exemplification  of  her  doctrine, 
Mistress  Deborah,  who  was  no  contemptible  per- 
former on  the  viol,  began  to  jangle  Sellenger's  Round, 
■ind  commanded  Alice  to  dance  an  old  English  mea- 
sure to  the  tune.  As  the  half-bashful,  half-smiling 
girl,  about  fourteen,  for  such  was  her  age,  moved 
gracefully  to  the  music,  the  father's  eye  unavoidably 
followed  the  light  spring  of  her  step,  and  marked 
with  joy  the  rising  colour  in  her  cheek.  When  the 
dance  was  over,  he  folded  her  in  his  arms,  smoothed 
vol.  i.  14 


158  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

her  somewhat  disordered  locks  with  a  farther's  affec- 
tionate hand,  smiled,  kissed  her  brow,  and  took  his 
leave,  without  one  single  word  further  interdicting 
the  exercise  of  dancing.  He  did  not  himself  com- 
municate the  result  of  his  visit  at  the  Black  Fort  to 
Mistress  Christian,  but  she  was  not  long  of  learning 
it,  by  the  triumph  of  Dame  Deborah  on  her  next 
visit. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  stern  old  lady ;  "  my  brother 
Bridgenorth  hath  permitted  you  to  make  a  Herodias 
of  Alice,  and  teach  her  dancing.  You  have  only 
now  to  find  her  a  partner  for  life — I  shall  neither 
meddle  nor  make  more  in  their  afiairs." 

In  fact,  the  triumph  of  Dame  Deborah,  or  rather  of 
Dame  Nature,  on  this  occasion,  had  more  important 
effects  than  the  former  had  ventured  to  anticipate; 
for  Mistress  Christian,  though  she  received  with  all 
formality  the  formal  visits  of  the  gouvernante  and  her 
charge,  seemed  thenceforth  so  much  petted  with  the 
issue  of  her  remonstrance,  upon  the  enormity  of  her 
niece  dancing  to  a  little  fiddle,  that  she  appeared  to 
give  up  interference!  in  her  affairs,  and  left  Dame 
Debbitch  and  Alice  to  manage  both  education  and 
house-keeping — in  which  she  had  hitherto  greatly  in- 
terfered— much  after  their  own  pleasure. 

It  was  in  this  independent  state  that  they  lived, 
when  Julian  first  visited  their  habitation;  and  he  was 
the  rather  encouraged  to  do  so  by  Dame  Deborah, 
that  she  believed  him  to  be  one  of  the  last  persons  in 
the  world  with  whom  Mistress  Christian  would  have 
desired  her  neice  to  be  acquainted — the  happy  spirit  of 
contradiction  superseding,  with  Dame  Deborah,  on 
this,  as  on  other  occasions,  all  consideration  of  the 
fitness  of  things.  She  did  not  act  altogether  without 
precaution  neither.  She  was  aware  she  had  to  guard 
not  only  against  any  reviving  interest  on  the  part  of 
Mistress  Christian,  hut  against  the  sudden  arrival  of 
Major  Bridgenorth,  who  never  failed  once  in  the  year 
to  make  his  appearance  at  the  Black  Fort  when  least 
expected,  and  to  remain  there  for  a  few  days.  Dame 
Debbitch  therefore,  exacted  of  Julian,  that  his  visits 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  159 

should  be  few  and  far  between  ;  that  he  should  con- 
descend to  pass  for  a  relation  of  her  own,  in  the  eves 
of  two  ignorant  Manks  girls  and  a  lad,  who  formed 
her  establishment ;  and  that  he  should  always  appear 
m  his  angler's  dress  made  of  the  simple  Lou$htatm)V 
burr-coloured  wool  of  the  island,  which  is  not  subject- 
ed to  dyeing.  By  these  precautions,  she  thought  his 
intimacy  at  the  Black-Fort  would  be  entirely  unno- 
ticed, or  considered  as  immaterial,  while,  in  the 
meanwhile,  it  furnished  much  amusement  to  her 
charge  and  herself. 

This  was  accordingly  the  case  during  the  earlier 
part  of  their  intercourse,  while  Julian  was  a  lad,  and 
Alice  a  girl  two  or  three  years  younger.  But  as  the 
lad  shot  up  to  youth,  and  the  girl  to  womanhood,  even 
Dame  Deborah  Debbitch's  judgment  saw  danger  in 
their  continued  intimacy.  She  took  an  opportunity 
to  communicate  to  Julian  who  Miss  Bridgenorth  ac- 
tually was,  and  the  peculiar  circumstances  which 
placed  discord  between  their  fathers.  He  heard  the 
story  of  their  quarrel  with  interest  and  surprise,  for  he 
had  only  resided  occasionally  at  Martindale  Castle, 
and  the  subject  of  Bridgenorth's  quarrel  with  his  fa- 
ther had  never  been  mentioned  in  his  presence.  His 
imagination  caught  lire  at  the  sparks  aiTorded  by  this 
singular  story  ;  and,  far  from  complying  with  the  pru- 
dent remonstrance  of  Dame  Deborah,  and  gradually 
estranging  himself,  from  the  Black-Fort  and  its  fair 
inmate,  he  frankly  declared,  he  considered  his  inti- 
macy, there  so  casually  commenced,  as  intimating 
the  will  of  Heaven,  that  Alice  and  he  were  designed 
for  each  other,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle  which  passion 
or  prejudice  could  raise  up  betwixt  them.  They  had 
been  companions  in  infancy  ;  and  a  -little  exertion  of 
memory  enabled  him  to  recal  his  childish  grief  for  the 
unexpected  and  sudden  disappearance  of  his  little 
companion,  whom  he  was  destined  again  to  meet  with 
in  the  early  bloom  of  opening  beauty,  in  a  country 
which  was  foreign  to  them  both. 

Dame  Deborah  was  confounded  at  the  consequen- 
ces'of  her  communication,  which  had  thus  blown  into 


160  PEVE1UL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

a^  flame  the  passion  which  she  hoped  it  would  have- 
either  prevented  or  extinguished.  She  had  not  the 
sort  of  head  which  resists  the  musculine  and  energetic 
remonstrances  of  passionate  attachment,  whether  ad- 
dressed to  her  on  her  own  account,  or  on  behalf  ol 
another.  She  lamented,  and  wondered,  and  ended 
her  feeble  opposition,  b  weeping,  and  sympathizing, 
and  consenting  to  allow  the  continuance  of  Julian's 
visits,  providing  he  was  only  to  address  himself  to 
Alice  in  the  capacity  of  a  friend  ;  for  the  world,  she 
would  consent  to  nothing  more.  She  was  not,  how- 
ever, so  simple,  but  that  she  also  had  her  forebodings 
of  the  designs  of  Providence  on  this  youthful  couple  : 
for  certainly  they  could  not  be  more  formed  to  be 
united  than  the  good  estates  of  Martindale  and  Moul» 
trassie. 

Then  came  a  long  sequence  of  reflections.  Mar- 
tindale Castle  v/anted  but  some  repairs  to  be  almost 
equal  to  Chalsworth.  The  Hall  might  be  allowed  to 
go  to  ruin  ;  or,  what  would  be  better,  when  Sir  Geof- 
frey's time  came,  (for  the  good  knight  had  seen  ser- 
vice, and  must  be  breaking  now,)  the  Hall  would  be 
a  good  dowry-house,  to  which  my  lady  and  Ellesmere 
might  retreat;  while  (empress  of  the  still  room,  and 
queen  of  the  pantry,)  Mistress  Deborah  Debbitch 
should  reign  housekeeper  at  the  Castle,  and  extend, 
perhaps,  the  crown-matrimonial  to  Lance  Outram, 
providing  he  was  not  become  too  old,  too  fat,  or  too- 
fond  of  ale. 

Such  were  the  soothing  visions  under  the  influence 
of  which  the  dame  connived  at  an  attachment,  which 
lulled  also  to  pleasing  dreams,  though  of  a  character 
so  different,  her  charge  and  her  visitant. 

The  visits  of  the  young  angel  became  more  and 
more  frequent ;  and  the  embarrassed  Deborah,  though 
foreseeing  all  the  dangers  of  discovery,  and  the  addi- 
tional risk  of  an  explanation  betwixt  Alice  and  Julian, 
which  must  necesarily  render  their  relative  situation 
so  much  more  delicate,  felt  completely  overborne  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  young  lover,  and  was  compelled. 
to  let  matters  take  their  course. 


PEVEBIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  161 

The  departure  of  Julian  for  the  continent  inter- 
rupted the  course  of  his  intimacy  at  the  Black  Fort, 
and  while  it  relieved  the  elder  of  its  inmates  from 
much  internal  apprehension,  spread  an  air  of  languor 
and  dejection  over  the  countenance  of  the  younger, 
which,  at  Bridgenorth's  next  visit  to  the  Isle  of  Man, 
renewed  all  his  terrors  for  his  daughter's  constitu- 
tional malady. 

Deborah  promised  faithfully  she  should  look  better 
the  next  morning,  and  she  kept  her  word.  She  had 
retained  in  her  possession  for  some  time  a  letter 
which  Julian  had,  by  some  private  conveyance,  sent 
to  her  charge,  for  his  youthful  friend.  Deborah  had 
dreaded  the  consequences  of  delivering  it  as  a  billet- 
doux,  but,  as  in  the  case  of  the  dance,  she  thought 
there  could  be  no  harm  in  administering  it  as  a  re- 
medy. 

It  had  complete  effect  ;  and  next  day  the  cheeks 
of  the  maiden  had  a  tinge  of  the  rose,  which  so  much 
delighted  her  father,  that  as  he  mounted  his  horse  he 
flung  his  purse  into  Deborah's  hand,  with  the  desire 
that  she  should  spare  nothing  that  could  make  herself 
and  his  daughter  happy,  and  the  assurance  that  she 
had  his  full  confidence. 

This  expression  of  liberality  and  confidence  from 
a  man  of  Major  Bridgenorth's  reserved  and  cautious 
disposition,  gave  full  plumage  to  Mistress  Deborah's 
hopes  ;  and  emboldened  her  not  only  to  deliver  ano- 
ther letter  of  Julian's  to  the  young  lady,  but  to  encou- 
rage more  boldly  and  freely  than  formerly  the  inter- 
course of  the  lovers  when  Peveril  returned  from 
abroad. 

At  length,  in  spite  of  all  Julian's  precaution,  the 
young  Earl  became  suspicious  of  his  frequent  solitary 
fishing  parties  ;  and  he  himself,  now  better  acquainted 
with  the  world  than  formerly,  became  aware  that 
his  repeated  visits  and  solitary,  walks  with  a  per- 
son so  young  and  beautiful  as  Alice,  might  nbt  only 
betray  prematurely  the  secret  of  his  attachment,  but 
be  of  essential  prejudice  to  her  who  was  its  object  - 

Under  the  influence  of  this  conviction,  he  abstained 
14* 


h 


\G'2  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

for  an  unusual  period,  from  Black-Fort.  But  when 
he  next  indulged  himself  with  spending  an  hour  in  the 
place  where  he  would  gladly  have  abode  for  ever,  the 
altered  manner  of  Alice — the  tone  in  which  she  seem* 
ed  to  upbraid  his  neglect,  penetrated  his  heart,  and 
deprived  him  of  the  power  of  self-command  which  he 
had  hitherto  exercised  in  their  interviews.  It  requi- 
red but  a  few  energetic  words  to  explain  to  Alice  at 
once  his  feelings,  and  to  make  her  sensible  of  the  real 
nature  of  her  own.  She  wept  plentifully,  but  her  tears 
were  not  all  of  bitterness.  She  sat  passively  still,  and 
without  reply,  while  he  explained  to  her  with  many 
an  interjection,  the  circumstances  which  had  placed 
disorder  between  their  families  ;  for  hitherto,  all  that 
she  had  known  was  that  Master  Peveril,  belonging  to 
the  household  of  the  great  Countess  or  Lady  of  Man, 
must  observe  some  precautions  in  visiting  a  relative 
of  the  unhappy  Colonel  Christian.  But  when  Julian 
concluded  his  tale  with  the  warmest  protestations  of 
eternal  love,  "  My  poor  father!"  she  burst  forth,  "and 
was  this  to  be  the  end  of  all  thy  precautions  ? — This, 
that  the  son  of  him  that  disgraced  and  banished  thee, 
should  hold  such  language  to  your  daughter  ?" 

"You  err,  Alice,  you  err,"  said  Julian,  eagerly, 
"  That  I  hold  this  language — that  the  son  of  Peve- 
ril addresses  thus  the  daughter  of  your  father — 
that  he  thus  kneels  to  you  for  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries which  passed  when  we  were  both  infants, 
allows  the  will  of  Heaven,  that  in  our  affection 
should  be  quenched  the  discord  of  our  parents. 
What  else  could  lead  those  who  parted  infants  on 
the  hills  of  Derbyshire,  to  meet  thus  in  the  valleys 
of  Man  ?" 

Alice,  however  new  to  such  a  scene,  and  above 
all  her  own  emotions  might  be,  was  highly  endowed 
with  that  exquisite  delicacy  which  is  imprinted  in 
the  female,  heart,  to  give  warning  of  the  slighest  ap- 
proach to  impropriety  in  a  situation  like  hers. 

"Rise,  rise,  Master  Peveril,"  she  said;  "  do  not 
do  yourself  and  me  this  injustice — we  have  donr; 
both   wrong— very  wrong  ;  but  my  fault  was  done 


i 


peveril  of  the  peak.  163 

in  ignorance.  O  God !  my  poor  father,  who  needs 
comfort  so  much — is  it  for  me  to  add  to  his  mis- 
fortunes ?  Rise !"  she  added  more  firmly ;  if  you 
retain  this  unbecoming  posture  any  longer,  I  will 
leave  the  room,  and  you  shall  never  see  me  more." 

The  commanding  tone  of  Alice  overawed  the 
impetuosity  of  her  lover,  who  took  in  silence  a  seat 
removed  to  some  distance  from  hers,  and  was  again 
about  to  speak.  "Julian,"  said  she,  in  a. milder 
tone,  "  you  have  spoken  enough,  and  more  than 
enough.  Would  you  had  left  me  in  the  pleasing 
dream  in  which  I  could  have  listened  to  you  for 
ever;  but  the  hour  of  awakening  has  arrived."  Pe- 
veril waited  the  prosecution  of  her  speech  as  a 
criminal  while  he  waits  his  doom  ;  for  he  was  suf- 
ficiently sensible  that  an  answer,  delivered  not  cer- 
tainly without  emotion,  but  with  firmness  and  re- 
solution, was  not  to  be  interrupted.  "  We  have 
done  wrong,"  she  repeated,  "  very  wrong;  and  if 
we  now  separate  for  ever,  the  pain  we  may  feel 
will  be  but  a  just  penalty  for  our  error.  We  should 
never  have  met.  Meeting,  we  should  part  as  soon 
as  possible.  Our  farther  intercourse  can  but  double 
our  pain  at  parting.  Farewell,  Julian;  and  forget 
we  have  ever  seen  each  other !" 

"Forget!"  said  Julian;  "never,  never.  To  you 
it  is  easy  to  speak  the  word — to  think  the  thought. 
To  rnc,  an  approach  to  either  can  only  be  by  utter 
destruction.  Why  should  you  doubt  that  the  feud 
of  our  fathers,  like  so  ninny  of  which  we  have 
heard,  might  be  appeased  by  our  friendship  ?  You 
are  my  only  friend.  I  am  the  only  friend  whom 
heaven  has  assigned  to  you.  Why  should  we  sepa- 
rate for  the  faults  of  others,  which  befel  when  we 
were  but  children?" 

"  You  speak 'in  vain,  Julian,"  said  Alice  ;  "  I  pity 
you — perhaps  I  pity  myself — indeed  I  should  pity 
myself,  perhaps,  most  of  the  two;  for  you  will  g0 
forth  to  new  scenes  and  new  faces,  and  will  soon 
forget  me;  but  I,  remaining  in  this  solitude,  how 
>nall   /  forget — that,  however,  is  not  now  the  ques*- 


164  PEVERIL    OF    THR    PEAK. 

lion — I  can   bear  my  lot,  and  it  commands  us  to 
part." 

"  Hear  me  yet  a  moment,"  said  Peveril ;  "  this 
^evil  is  not,  cannot  be  remediless.  I  will  go  to  my 
father — I  will  use  the  intercession  of  my  mother, 
to  whom  he  can  refuse  nothing — T  will  gain  their 
consent — they  have  no  other  child — -and  they  must 
consent  or  lose  him  for  ever.  Say,  Alice,  if  I  come 
to  you  fwith  my  parents'  consent  to  my  suit,  will 
you  again  say,  with  that  tone  so  touching  and  so  sad, 
yet  so  incredibly  determined — Julian,  we  must  part  r1' 
Alice  was  silent.  "  Cruel  girl,  will  you  not  even 
deign  to  answer  me  ?"  said  her  lover. 

"  We  answer  not  those  who  speak  in  their  dreams," 
said  Alice.  "  You  ask  what  I  would  do  were  impos- 
sibilities performed.  What  right  have  you  to  make 
such  suppositions,  and  ask  such  a  question  ?" 

"Hope,  Alice,  Hope,"  answered  Julian,  4f  the  last 
support  of  the  wretched,  which  even  you  surely  would 
not  be  cruel  enough  to  deprive  me  of.  In  every  diffi- 
culty, in  every  doubt,  in  every  danger,  Hope  will  fight 
even  if  he  cannot  conquer.  Tell  me  once  more,  if  I 
come  to  you  in  the  name  of  my  father — in  that  of  that 
mother,  to  whom  you  partly  owe  your  life,  what  would 
you  answer  to  me  ?" 

"  I  would  refer  you  to  my  own  father,"  said  Alice, 
blushing,  and  casting  her  eyes  down;  but  instantly 
raising  them  again,  she  repeated,  in  a  firmer  and  sad- 
der tone,  "  Yes,  Julian,  I  would  refer  you  to  my  father  ; 
and  you  would  find  that  your  pilot,  Hope,  had  deceiv- 
ed you  ;  and  that  you  had  escaped  the  quicksands  to 
fail  upon  the  rocks." 

"I  would  that  could  be  tried  !"  said  Julian.  "  Me- 
thinks  I  could  persuade  your  father  that  in  ordinary 
eyes  our  alliance  is  not  undesirable.  We  have  for- 
tune, rank,  long  descent — all  that  fathers  look  for  when 
they  bestow  a  daughter's  hand." 

"All  this  would  avail  nothing,"  said  Alice.  "  The 
spirit  of  my  father  is  bent  upon  the  things  of  another 
world ;  and  if  he  listened  to  hear  you  out,  it  would  be- 
but  to  tell  you  that  he  spurned  your  offers." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  16\) 

"  You  know  not,  Alice,"  said  Julian.  "  Fire  can 
soften  iron — thy  father's  heart  cannot  be  so  hard,  or 
his  prejudices  so  strong,  but  I  shall  find  some  means 
to  melt  him.  Forbid  me  not — O,  forbid  me  not  at 
least  the  experiment!" 

"  I  can  but  advise,"  said  Alice ;  "  I  can  forbid  you 
nothing  ;  for  to  forbid,  implies  power  to  command 
obedience.  Bat  if  you  will  be  wise,  and  listen  to  me 
— Here,  and  on  this  spot,  we  part  forever!" 

"Not  so,  by  heaven!"  said  Julian,  whose  bold  and 
sanguine  temper  scarce  saw  difficulty  in  attaining 
aught  which  he  desired.  "  We  now  part,  indeed,  but 
it  is  that  I  may  return  armed  with  my  parent's  consent. 
They  desire  that  I  should  marry,  in  their  last  letters 
they  pressed  it  more  openly — they  shall  have  their  de- 
sire; and  such  a  bride  as  I  will  present  to  them,  has 
not  graced  their  house  since  the  Conqueror  gave  it 
origin.     Farewell,  Alice!  Farewell,  for  a  brief  space!" 

She  replied,  "  Farewell,  Julian!  Farewell,  forever!" 

Julian,  within  a  week  of  this  interview,  was  at  Mar- 
tindale  Castle,  with  the  view  of  communicating  his 
purpose.  But  the  task  which  seems  easy  at  a  distance, 
proves  as  diificult,  upon  a  nearer  approach,  as  the 
fording  of  a  river,  which,  in  the  distance  appeared 
only  a  brook.  There  lacked  not  opportunities  of  en- 
tering upon  the  subject ;  for  in  the  first  ride  which  he 
took  with  his  father,  the  Knight  resumed  the  subject 
of  his  son's  marriage,  and  liberally  left  the  lady  to  his 
choice;  but  under  the  strict  proviso,  that  she  was  of 
a  loyal  and  an  honourable  family, — if  she  had  for- 
tune, it  was  good  and  well,  or  rather  it  was  better  than 
well;  but  if  she  was  poor,  why,  "there  is  still  some 
picking,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey,  "  on  the  bones  of  the  old 
estate ;  and  Dame  Margaret  and  I  will  be  content  with 
the  less,  that  you  young  folks  may  have  your  share  of 
it.  I  am  turned*  frugal  already,  Julian.  You  see 
what  a  north  country  shambling  bit  of  a  Galloway  nag 
I  ride  upon — a  different  beast,  I  wot,  from  my  own  old 
Black  Hastings,  who  had  but  one  fault,  and  that  was 
his  wish  to  turn  down  Moultrassie  avenue." 

:t  Was  that  so  great  a  fault?"  said  Julian,  affecting 


166  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

indifference,  while  his  heart  was  trembling,as  it  seem- 
ed to  him,  almost  in  his  very  throat. 

"  It  used  to  remind  me  of  that  base,  dishonourable, 
Presbyterian  fellow  Bridgenorth,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey  : 
te  and  I  would  as  lief  think  of  a  toad  ; — they  say  he 
lias  turned  Independent,  toaccomplish  the  full  degree 
of  rascality. — I  tell  you,  Gill,  I  turned  off'  the  cow- 
boy, for  gathering  nuts  in  his  woods — I  would  hang 
a  dog  that  would  so  much  as  kill  a  hare  there. — But 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  look  pale." 

Julian  made  some  indifferent  answer,  but  too  well 
understood  from  the  language  and  tone  which  his 
father  used,  that  his  prejudices  against  Alice's  father 
were  both  deep  and  envenomed,  as  those  of  country 
gentlemen  often  become,  who,  having  little  to  do  or 
think  of,  are  but  too  apt  to  spend  their  time  in  nurs- 
ing, and  cherishing  petty  causes  of  wrath  against  their 
next  neighbours. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  day,  he  mentioned  the 
Bridgenorth's  to  his  mother,  as  if  in  a  casual  manner. 
But  the  Lady  Pevenl  instantly  conjured  him  never  to 
mention  the  name,  especially  in  his  father's  presence. 

"  Was  that  Major  Bridgenorth,  of  whom  I  have 
heard  the  name  mentioned,"  said  Julian,  "  so  very 
bad  a  neighbour  ?" 

"  I  do  not  say  so,"  said  Lady  Peveril ;  "  nay,  we 
were  more  than  once  obliged  to  him,  in  the  former 
unhappy  times;  but  your  father  and  he  took  some 
passages  so  ill  at  each  other's  hands,  that  the  least  al- 
lusion to  him  disturbs  Sir  Geoffrey's  temper  in  a  man- 
ner quite  unusual,  and  which,  now  that  his  health  is 
somewhat  impaired,  is  sometimes  alarming  to  me. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  then,  my  dear  Julian,  avoid,  upon 
all  occasions,  the  slightest  allusion  to  Moultrassie,  or 
any  of  its  inhabitants." 

This  warning  was  so  seriously  given,  that  Julian 
himself  saw  that  mentioning  his  secret  purpose  would 
be  the  sure  way  to  render  it  abortive,  and  therefore 
he  returned  disconsolate  to  the  Isle. 

Peveril  had  the  boldness,  however,  to  make  the  best 
he  could  of  what  had  happened,  by  requesting  an 


TEVERIL    OF    THE   PEAK.  167 

interview  with  Alice,  in  order  to  inform  her  what  had 
passed  betwixt  his  parents  and  him  on  her  account. 
It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  this  boon  was  obtain- 
ed ;  and  Alice  Bridgenorth  showed  no  slight  degree 
of  displeasure,  when  she  discovered,  after  much  cir- 
cumlocution, and  many  efforts  to  give  an  air  of  im- 
portance to  what  he  had  to  communicate,  that  all 
amounted  but  to  this,  that  Lady  Peveril  continued  to 
retain  a  favourable  opinion  of  her  father,  Major  Bridge- 
north,  which  Julian  would  fain  have  represented  as  an 
omen  of  their  more  perfect  reconciliation. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  thus  have  trifled  with 
me,  Master  Peveril,"  said  Alice,  assuming  an  air  of 
dignity  ;  "  but  I  will  take  care  to  avoid  such  intrusion 
in  future — I  request  you  will  not  again  visit  Black 
Fort ;  and  1  entreat  of  you,  good  Mistress  Debbitch, 
that  you  will  no  longer  either  encourage  or  permit  this 
gentleman's  visits,  as  the  result  of  such  persecution 
will  be  to  compel  me  to  appeal  to  my  aunt  and  father 
for  another  place  of  residence,  and  perhaps  also  for 
another  and  more  prudent  companion." 

This  last  hint  struck  Mistress  Deborah  with  so 
much  terror,  that  she  joined  her  ward  in  requiring 
and  demanding  Julian's  instant  absence,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  comply  with  their  request.  But  the  courage 
of  a  youthful  lover  is  not  easily  subdued  ;  and  Julian 
after  having  gone  through  the  usual  round  of  trying 
to  forget  his  ungrateful  mistress,  and  again  entertain- 
ing his  passion  with  augmented  violence,  ended  by 
the  visit  to  the  Black  Fort  the  beginning  of  which  we 
narrated  in  the  last  chapter. 

We  then  left  him  anxious  for,  yet  almost  fearful  of 
an  interview  writh  Alice,  which  he  had  prevailed  upon 
Deborah  to  solicit;  and  such  was  the  tumult  of  his 
mind,  that,  while  he  traversed  the  parlour,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  dark  melancholy  eyes  of  Christian's 
portrait  followed  him  wherever  he  went,  with  the  fixed, 
chill,  and  ominous  glance,  which  announced  to  the 
enemy  of  his  race  mishap  and  misfortune. 

The  door  of  the  apartment  opened  at  length,  and 
these  visions  dissipated. 


168  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

parents  have  flinty  hearts !  No  tears  can  move  them. 


Otway. 


When  Alice  Bridgenorth  entered,  at  length,  the 
parlour  where  her  anxious  lover  had  so  long  expected 
her,  it  was  with  a  slow  step,  and  a  composed  manner. 
Her  dress  was  arranged  with  an  accurate  attention  to 
form,  which  at  once  enhanced  the  appearance  of  its 
puritanic  simplicity,  and  struck  Julian  as  a  had  omen ; 
for  although  the  time  bestowed  upon  the  toilette  may, 
in  many  cases,  intimate  the  wish  to  appear  advanta- 
geously at  such  an  interview,  yet  a  ceremonious  ar- 
rangement of  attire  is  very  much  allied  with  formali- 
ty, and  a  pre-conceived  determination  to  treat  a  lover 
with  cold  politeness. 

The  sad-coloured  ground — the  pinched  and  plaited 
cap,  which  carefully  obscured  the  profusion  of  long 
dark-brown  hair — the  small  ruff,  and  the  long  sleeves, 
would  have  ppeared  to  great  disadvantage  on  a  shape 
less  graceful  than  Alice  Bridgenorth's  ;  but  an  exqui- 
site form,  though  not,  as  yet,  sufficiently  rounded  in 
the  outlines  to  produce  the  perfection  of  female  beau- 
ty, was  able  to  sustain  and  give  grace  even  to  this  un- 
becoming dress.  Her  countenance,  fair  and  delicate, 
with  eyes  of  hazel,  and  a  brow  of  alabaster,  had,  not- 
withstanding, less  regular  beauty  than  her  form,  and 
might  have  been  justly  subjected  to  criticism.  There 
was,  however,  a  life  and  spirit  in  her  gaiety,  and  a 
depth  of  sentiment  in  her  gravity,  which  made  Alice, 
in  conversation  with  the  very  few  persons  with  whom 
she  associated,  so  facinating  in  her  manners  and  ex- 
pression, whether  of  language  or  countenance — so 
touching,  also,  in  her  simplicity  and  purity  of  thought, 
that  brighter  beauties  might  have  been  overlooked  in 
her  company.  It  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  an 
ardent  character  like  Julian,  influenced  by  these 
charms,  as  well  as  by  the  secrecy  and  mystery  attend- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  1^9 

ing  his  intercourse  with  Alice,  should  prefer  the  re- 
cluse of  the  Black-Fort  to  all  others  with  whom  he  ■ 
had  become  acquainted  in  general  society. 

His  heart  beat  high  as  she  came  into  the  apartment, 
and  it  was  almost  without  an  attempt  to  speak  that 
his  profound  obeisance  acknowledged  her  entrance. 

"  This  is  a  mockery,  Master  Peveril,"  said  Alice, 
with  an  effort  to  speak  firmly,  which  yet  was  discon- 
certed by  a  slight  tremulous  inflection  of  voice — "a 
mockery,  and  a  cruel  one.  You  come  to  this  lone 
place,  inhabited  only  by  two  women,  too  simple  to 
command  your  absence — too  weak  to  enforce  it — you 
come,  in  spite  of  my  earnest  request — to  the  neglect 
of  your  own  time — to  the  prejudice,  1  may  fear,  of 
my  character — you  abuse  the  influence  you  possess 
over  the  simple  person  to  whom  1  am  intrusted — All 
this  you  do,  and  think  to  make  it  up  by  low  reve- 
rences, and  constrained  courtesy  !  Is  this  honourable, 
or  is  it  fair  ? — Is  it,"  and  added,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation — "  is  it  kind?" 

The  tremulous  accent  fell  especially  on  the  last 
word  she  uttered,  and  it  was  spoken  in  a  low  tone  of 
gentle  reproach,  which  went  to  Julian's  heart. 

"  If,"  said  he,  "  there  was  a  mode  by  which,  at  the 
peril  of  my  life,  Alice,  I  could  show  my  regard — my 
respect — my  devoted  tenderness — the  danger  would 
be  dearer  to  me  than  ever  was  pleasure." 

"  You  have  said  such  things  often,"  said  Alice, 
"  and  they  are  such  as  I  ought  not  to  hear,  and  do  not 

desire  to  hear.     I  have  no  tasks  to  impose  on  you 

no  enemies  to  be  destroyed — no  need  or  desire  of 
protection — no  wish,  Heaven  knows,  to  expose  you 
to  danger — It  is  your  visits  here  alone  to  which  dan- 
ger attaches.  You  have  but  to  rule  your  own  wilful 
temper — to  turn  your  thoughts  and  your  cares  else- 
where, and  I  can  have  nothing  to  ask—nothing  to 
wish  for.  Use  your  own  reason — consider  the  injury 
you  do  yourself — the  injustice  you  do  us — and  let  me, 
once  more,  in  fair  terms,  entreat  you  to  absent  your- 
self from  this  place— till— till " 

vol.  i.  15 


17©  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

She  paused,  and  Julian  eagerly  interrupted  her, — 
"Till  when,  Alice? — impose  on  me  any  length  of 
absence  which  your  severity  can  inflict,  short  of  a 
final  separation — Say,  begone  for  years,  but  return 
when  these  years  are  over;  and,  slow  and  wearily  as 
they  must  pass  away,  still  the  thought,  that  they  must 
at  length  have  their  period,  will  enable  me  to  live 
through  them.  Let  me,  then,  conjure  thee,  Alice, 
to  name  a  date — to  fix  a  term — to  say  till  when.'" 

"  Till  you  can  bear  to  think  of  me  only  as  a  friend 
and  sister." 

"  That  is  a  sentence  of  eternal  banishment  indeed," 
said  Julian  ;  "  it  is  seeming,  no  doubt,  to  fix  a  term  of 
exile,  but  attaching  to  it  an  impossible  condition." 

"And  why  impossible,  Julian?"  said  Alice,  in  a 
tone  of  persuasion ;  "  were  we  not  happier  ere  you 
threw  the  mask  from  your  own  countenance,  and  tore 
the  veil  from  my  foolish  eyes  ?  Did  we  not  meet 
with  joy,  spend  our  time  happily,  and  part  cheerily, 
because  we  transgressed  no  duty,  and  incurred  no 
self-reproach  ?  Bring  back  that  state  of  happy  igno- 
rance, and  you  shall  have  no  reason  to  call  me  unkind. 
But  while  you  form  schemes  which  I  know  to  be  ima- 
ginary, and  use  language  of  such  violence  and  pas- 
sion, you  shall  excuse  me  if  I  now,  and  once  for 
all  declare,  that  since  Deborah  shows  herself  unfit  for 
the  trust  reposed  in  her,  and  must  needs  expose  me 
to  persecutions  of  this  nature,  I  will  write  to  my  fa- 
ther, that  he  may  fix  me  another  place  of  residence; 
and  in  the  meanwhile  I  will  take  shelter  with  my  aunt 
atKirk-Truagh." 

"  Hear  me  unpitying  girl,"  said  Peveril,  "  hear 
me,  and  you  shall  see  how  devoted  I  am  to  obedience, 
in  all  that  I  can  do  to  oblige  you.  You  say  you 
wrere  happy  when  we  spoke  not  on  such  topics — well 
—at  all  expence  of  my  own  suppressed  feelings,  that 
happy  period  shall  return.  I  will  meet  you — walk 
with  you — read  with  you — but  only  as  a  brother 
would  with  his  sister,  or  a  friend  with  his  friend;  the 
thoughts  I  may  nourish,  be  they  of  hope  or  of  despair, 
my  tongue  shall  not  give  birth  to,  and  therefore  lean- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  t/I 

not  .offend  ;  Deborah  shall  be  ever  by  your  side,  and 
her  presence  shall  prevent  my  even  hinting  at  what 
might  displease  )Ou — only  do  not  make  a  crime  to 
me  of  those  thoughts,  which  are  the  dearest  part  of 
my  existence  ;  for  believe  me  it  were  better  and 
kinder  to  rob  me  of  existence  itself." 

"This  is  the  mere  ecstacv  of  passion,  Julian," 
answered  Alice  Bridgenorth  ;  "that  which  is  unplea- 
sant, our  selfish  and  stubborn  will  represents  as 
impossible.  I  have  no  confidence  in  the  plan  you 
propose — no  confidence  in  your  resolution,  and  less 
titan  none  in  the  protection  of  Deborah.  Till  you 
can  renounce,  honestly  and  explicitly,  the  wishes 
you  have  lately  expressed,  we  must  he  strangers  ; — 
and  could  you  renounce  them  even  on  this  mo- 
ment, it  were  better  that  we  should  part  for  along 
time;  and,  for  heaven's  sake,  let  it  be  as  soon  as 
possible — perhaps  it  is  even  now  too  late  to  pre- 
vent some  unpleasant  accident — I  thought  I  heard  a 
noise." 

"  It  was  Deborah,"  answered  Julian.  "  Be  not 
afraid,  Alice  ;  we  are  secure  against  surprise." 

11  1  know  not,"  said  Alice,  "what  you  mean  by 
such  security — I  have  nothing  to  hide.  I  sought 
not  this  interview;  on  the  contrary,  averted  it  as 
long  as  I  could — and  am  now  most  desirous  to  break 
it  off." 

"  x\nd  wherefore,  Alice,  since  you  say  it  must 
be  our  last  ?  Why  should  you  shake  the  sand  which 
is  passing  so  fast?  the  very  executioner  hurries  not 
the  prayers  of  the  wretches  upon  the  scaffold.  And 
see  you  not — I  will  argue  as  coldly  as  you  can 
desire — see  you  not  that  you  are  breaking  your  own 
word,  and  recalling  the  hope  which  yourself  held 
out  to  me?" 

"  What  hope  have  I  suggested  ?  What  word  have 
I  given  Julian?"  answered  Alice.  "  \ou  )ourself 
build  wild  hopes  in  the  air,  and  accuse  me  of 
destroying  what  had  never  any  ear^ly  foundation. 
Spare  yourself,  Julian — spare  me — and  in  mercy  to 
us  both,  depart,  and  return  not  again  till  you  can 
be  more  reasonable," 


17*2  PEVERIt    OF    THE    PEAK. 

"Reasonable?"  replied  Julian;  "it  is  you  Alice, 
who  will  deprive  me  altogether  of  reason.  Did 
you  not  say,  that  if  our  parents  could  be  brought 
to  consent  to  our  union,  you  would  no  longer  oppose 
my  suit  ?" 

"  No— no — no,"  said  Alice  eagerly,  and  blushing 
deeply, — I  did  not  say  so,  Julian — it  was  your  own 
wild  imagination  which  put  construction  on  my 
silence  and  confusion." 

"  You  do  not  say  so,  then,"  answered  Julian  ; 
*"•  and  if  all  other  obstacles  were  removed,  1  should 
find  one  in  the  cold  flinty  bosom  of  her  .who  pays 
the  most  devoted  and  sincere  affection  with  con- 
tempt and  dislike.  Is  that,"  he  added  in  a  deep  tone 
6f  feeling,  "  is  that  what  Alice  Bridgenorth  says  to 
Julian  Peverilr" 

"  Indeed — indeed,  Julian,"  said  the  almost  weep- 
ing girl,  *'  I  do  not  say  so — I  say  nothing,  and  I 
ought  not  to  say  any  thing  concerning  what  I  might 
do,  in  a  state  of  things  which  can  never  take  place. 
Indeed,  Julian,  you  ought  not  thus  to  press  me. 
Unprotected  as  I  am — wishing  you  well — very  well — 
why  should  you  urge  me  to  say  or  do  what  would 
lesson  me  in  my  own  eyes  ?  to  own  affection  for  one 
from  whom  fate  has  separated  me  for  ever?  It  is  un- 
generous— it  is  cruel — it  is  seeking  a  momentary  and 
seltish  gratification  to  yourself,  at  the  expense  of 
every  feeling  which  I  ought  to  entertain." 

"  You  have  said  enough,  Alice,"  said  Julian,  with 
sparkling  eyes;  "you  have  said  enough  in  depreca- 
ting my  urgency,  and  I  will  press  you  no  further. 
But  you  overrate  the  impediments  which  lie  betwixt 
us — they  must  and  shall  give  way." 

"  So  you  said  before,"  answered  Alice,  "and  with 
what  probability,  your  own  account  may  show.  Yrou 
dared  not  mention  the  subject  to  your  own  father — 
how  should  you  venture  to  mention  it  to  mine." 

"  That  I  will  soon  enable  you  to  decide  upon. 
majorBridgenoft.h,  by  my  mother's  account,  is  a  wor- 
thy and  an  estimable  man.  I  will  remind  him,  that  to 
my  mother's  care  he  owes  the  dearest  treasure  and 
comtort  of  his  life  ;  and  I  will  ask  him  if  it  is  a  just 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  i?.:i 

retribution  to  make  that  mother  childless.  Let  me 
but  know  where  to  find  him,  Alice,  and  you  shall 
soon  hear  if  I  have  feared  to  plead  my  cause  with 
him." 

"  Alas  !"  answered  Alice,  "  you  well  know  my  un- 
certainty as  to  my  dear  father's  residence.  How 
often  has  it  been  my  earnest  request  to  him  that  he 
would  let  me  share  his-  solitary  residence,  or  his  ob- 
scure wanderings!  But  the  short  and  unfrequent  visits 
which  he  makes  to  this  house  are  all  that  he  permits 
me  of  his  society.  Something  I  might  surely  do,  how- 
ever little  to  alleviate  the  melancholy  by  which  he  is 
oppressed." 

'  "  Something  we  might  both  do,"  said  Peveril. 
"How  willingly  would  1  aid  you  in  so  pleasing  a  task  ? 
All  old  griefs  should  be  forgotten — all  old  friendships 
revived.  My  father's  prejudices  are  those  of  an  Eng- 
lishman— strong,  indeed,  but  not  insurmountable  by 
reason.  Tell  me,  then,  where  Major  Bridgenorth  is, 
and  leave  the  rest  to  me;  or  let  me  but  know  by  what 
address  your  letters  reach  him,  and  1  will  forthwith 
essay  to  discover  his  dwelling." 

"  Do  not  attempt  it  I  charge  you,"  said  Alice.  "He 
is  already  a  man  of  sorrows ;  and  what  would  he  think 
were  I  capable  of  entertaining  a  suit  so  likely  to  afdd 
to  them  ?  Besides,  I  could  not  tell  you,  if  I  would, 
where  he  is  now  to  be  found.  My  letters  reach  him 
from  time  to  time,  by  means  of  my  aunt  Christian; 
but  of  his  address  I  am  entirely  ignorant." 

"Then,  by  Heaven,"  answered  Julian,  "I  will 
watch  his  arrival  in  this  island,  and  in  this  house  ; 
and  ere  he  has  locked  thee  in  his  arms,  he  shall  answer 
to  me  on  the  subject  of  my  suit." 

Then  demand  that  answer  now — "  said  a  voice 
from  without  the  door,  which  was  at  the  same  time 
slowly  opened.  "  Demand  that  answer  now,  for  here 
stands  Ralph  Bridgenorth." 

As  he  spoke  he  entered  the   apartment  with  his 

usual   slow  and  sedate  step — raisedthis   flapp'd  and 

steeple-crowned  hat   from  his  brows  and,  standing  in 

the  midst  of  the  room,  eyed  alternately  his  daughter 

15  * 


174  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

and  Julian  Peveril  with  a  fixed  and  penetrating 
glance. 

"  Father!"  said  Alice,  utterly  astonished,  and  ter- 
rified besides,  by  his  sudden  apoearance  at  such  a  con- 
juncture,— "  Father,  I  am  not  to  blame." 

"  Of  that  anon,  Alice,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  mean- 
time retire  to  your  apartment — I  have  that  to  say  to 
this  youth  which  will  not  endure  your  presence." 

"Indeed — indeed,  father,"  said  Alice,  alarmed  at 
what  she  supposed  these  words  indicated,  "  Julian  is 
as  little  to  be  blamed  as  I !  It  was  chance,  it  was  for- 
tune, which  caused  our  meeting  together."  Then 
suddenly  rushing  forward,  she  threw  her  arms  around 
her  father  saying,  "  O  do  him  no  injury — he  meant 
me  no  wrong  !  Father,  you  were  wont  to  be  a  man 
of  reason  and  of  religious  peace. 

"And  wherefore  should  I  not  be  so  now,  Alice?" 
said  Bridgenorth,  raising  his  daughter  from  the 
ground,  on  which  she  had  almost  sunk  in  the  earnest- 
ness of  her  supplication.  "  Doest  thou  know  aught, 
maiden,  which  should  inflame  my  anger  against  this 
young  man,  more  than  reason  or  religion  may  bridle  ? 
Go — £0  to  thy  chamber.  Compose  thine  own  passions 
— learn  to  rule  these — and  leave  it  to  me  to  deal  with 
this  stubborn  young  man." 

Alice  arose,  and,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground, 
retired  slowly  from  the  apartment.  Julian  followed 
her  steps  with  his  eyes  till  the  last  wave  of  her  gar- 
ment was  visible  at  the  closing  door;  then  turned  his 
looks  to  Major  Bridgenorth,  and  sunk  them  on  the 
ground.  The  Major  continued  to  regard  him  in  pro- 
found silence;  his  looks  were  melancholy  and  even 
austere;  but  there  was  nothing  which  indicated  either 
agitation  or  keen  resentment.  He  motioned  to  Julian 
to  take  a  seat,  and  assumed  one  himself.  After 
which,  he  opened  the  conversation  in  the  following 
manner : — 

"  You  seemed  but  now,  young  gentleman,  anxious 
to  learn  where  I  was  to  be  found.  Such  1  at  least 
conjectured,  from  the  few  expressions  which  I  chanced 
to  overhear;  for  I  made  bold,  though  it  may  be  con- 


PEVEIUL    OP    THE    PEAK.  175 

trary  to  the  code  of  modern  courtesy,  to  listen  a 
moment  or  two,  in  order  to  gather  upon  what  subject 
so  young  a  man  as  you  entertained  so  young  a  woman 
as  Alice,  in  a  private  interview." 

"T  trust,  sir,"  said  Julian,  rallying  spirits  in  what 
he  felt  to  be  a  case  of  extremity,  "you  have  heard 
nothing  on  my  part  which  has  given  offence  to  a  gen- 
tleman, whom,  though  unknown,  I  am  bound  to  re- 
spect so  highly." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Bridgenorth,  with  the  same 
formal  gravity,  "I  am  pleased  to  find  that  your  busi- 
ness is,  or  appears  to  be,  with  me,  rather  than  with 
my  daughter.  T  only  think  you  had  done  better  to 
have  entrusted  it  to  me  in  the  first  instance,  as  my 
sole  concern." 

The  utmost  sharpness  of  attention  which  Julian  ap- 
plied, could  not  discover  if  Bridgenorth  spoke  seri- 
ously or  ironical  I  v  to  the  above  purpose.  He  was, 
however,  quick-witted  beyond  his  experience,  and 
was  internally  determined  to  endeavour  to  discover 
something  of  the  character  and  the  temper  of  him 
with  whom  he  spoke.  For  that  purpose,  regulating 
his  replv  in  the  same  tone  with  Bridgenorth's  obser- 
vation, he  said,  that  not  having  the  advantage  to 
know  his  place  of  residence,  he  had  applied  for  infor- 
mation to  his  daughter. 

"Who  is  now  known  to  you  for  the  first  time?" 
said  Bridgenorth.     "  Am  I  so  to  understand  you  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  Julian,  looking  down  ; 
"I  have  been  known  to  your  daughter  for  many 
years;  and  what  I  wished  to  say,  respects  both  her 
happiness  and  my  own  " 

"  T  must  understand  you,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  even 
as  carnal  men  understand  each  other  on  the  matters 
or  this  world.  You  are  attached  to  my  daughter  by 
the  cords  of  love  ;  I  have  long  known  it." 

Ton,   Master  Bridgenorth?"  exclaimed   Peveril . 

"  You  have  long  known  it-" 

"  Yes  young  man.  Think  you,  that  as  the  father 
of  an  only  child,  T  could  have  suffered  Alice  Bridge- 
noith — me  only  living  pi  dge  of  her  who  is  now  an 
angel  in  heaven — to  have  remained  in  this  seclusion 


176  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

•without  the  surest  knowledge  of  all  her  material  ac- 
tions ?  I  have,  in  person,  seen  more,  both  of  her  and 
of  you,  than  you  could  be  aware  of;  and  when  ab- 
sent in  the  body,  I  had  the  means  of  maintaining  the 
same  superintendence.  Young  man,  they  say  that 
such  love  as  you  entertain  for  my  daughter  teaches 
much  subtlety;  but  believe  not  that  it  can  overreach 
the  affection  which  a  widowed  father  bears  to  an  only 
child." 

"If,"  said  Julian,  his  heart  beating  thick  and  joy- 
fully, "  if  you  have  known  this  intercourse  so  long, 
may  I  not  hope  that  it  has  not  met  your  disappro- 
bation ?" 

The  Major  paused  for  an  instant,  and  then  answer*, 
ed,  "  In  some  respect,  certainly  not.  Had  it  done 
so — had  there  seemed  ought  on  your  side,  or  on  my 
daughter's  to  have  rendered  your  visits  here  danger- 
ous to  her,  or  displeasing  to  me,  she  had  not  been 
long  the  inhabitant  of  this  solitude,  or  of  this  island. 
But  be  not  so  hasty  as  to  presume,  that  all  which  you 
may  desire  in  this  matter  can  be  either  easily  or 
speedily  accomplished." 

"  I  foresee,  indeed,  difficulties,"  answered  Julian  ; 
"  but  with  your  kind  acquiescence,  they  are  such  as  I 
trust  to  remove.  My  father  is  generous — my  mother 
is  candid  and  liberal.  They  loved  you  once,  I  trust 
they  will  love  you  again.  I  will  be  the  mediator  be- 
twixt you — peace  and  harmony  shall  once  more  in- 
habit our  neighbourhood,  and  " 

Bridgenorth  interrupted  him  with  a  grim  smile; 
for  such  it  seemed,  as  it  passed  over  a  face  of  deep 
melancholy.  "  My  daughter  well  said,  but  short  while 
past,  that  you  were  a  dreamer  of  dreams — an  archi- 
tect of  plans  and  hopes  fantastic  as  the  visions  of  the 
sight.  It  is  a  great  thing  you  ask  of  me; — the  hand 
of  my  only  child— the  sun/of  my  worldly  substance, 
though  that  is  but  dross  in  comparison.  You  ask  the 
key  of  the  only  fountain  from  which  I  may  yet  hope 
to  drink  one  pleasant  draught ;  you  ask  to  be  the  sole 
and  absolute  keeper  of  my  earthly  happiness — and 
what  have  you  ottered,  or  what  have  you  to  offer,  in 
return  of  the  surrender  you  require  of  me?" 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  177 

"  I  am  but  too  sensible."  said  Peveril,  abashed  at 
his  own  hasty  conclusion,  "  how  difficult  it  may  be." 

"  Nay,  but  interrupt  me  not,"  replied  Bridgenorth, 
"  till  I  show  you  the  amount  of  what  you  oiler  me  in 
exchange  for  a  boon,  which,  whatever  may  be  its  in- 
trinsic value,  is  earnestly  desired  by  you,  and  compre- 
hends all  that  is  valuable  on  earth  which  I  have  it  in 
my  power  to  bestow.  You  may  have  heard,  that,  in 
the  late  times,  1  was  the  antagonist  of  your  father's 
principles  and  his  profane  faction,  but  not  the  enemy 
of  his  person." 

"  I  have  ever  heard,"  replied  Julian,  "  much  the 
contrary  :  and  it  was  but  now  that  I  reminded  you 
that  you  had  been  his  friend/' 

"  Ay.  When  he  was  in  affliction  and  I  in  prosper- 
ity, I  was  neither  unwilling,  nor  altogether  unable,  to 
show  myself  such.  Well,  the  tables  are  turned — the 
times  are  changed.  A  peaceful  and  unoffending  man 
might  have  expected  from  a  neighbour,  now  powerful 
in  his  turn,  such  protection  when  walking  in  the  paths 
of  the  law,  as  all  men,  subjects  of  the  same  realm, 
have  a  right  to  expect  even  from  perfect  strangers. — 
What  chances  ?  I  pursue,  with  the  warrant  of  the 
King  and  law,  a  murtheress,  bearing  on  her  hand  the 
blood  of  my  near  connexion,  and  I  had,  in  such  case 
a  right  to  call  on  every  liege  subject  to  render  assist- 
ance to  the  execution.  My  late  friendly  neighbour, 
bound,  as  a  man  and  a  magistrate,  to  give  ready  as- 
sitance  to  a  legal  action — bound,  as  a  grateful  and 
obliged  friend,  to  respect  my  rights  and  my  person — 
thrusts  himself  betwixt  me—me,  the  avenger  of  blood 
— and  my  lawful  captive;  beats  me  to  the  earth,  at 
once  endangering  my  life,  and,  in  mere  human  eyes, 
sullying  mine  honour  :  and  under  his  protection,  the 
Midianitish  woman  reaches,  like  a  sea-eagle,  the  nest 
which  she  hath  made  in  the  rocks,  and  remains  ther»e 
till  gold,  duly  administered  at  court,  wipes  out  all 
memory  of  her  crime,  and  baffles  the  vengeance  due 
to  the  memory  of  the  best  and  bravest  of  men. — But," 
he  added,  apostrophizing  the  portrait  of  Christian, 
"  thou  art  not  yet  forgotten  !  The  vengeance  which 
dogs  thy  murtheress  is  slow, — but  it  is  sure  !" 


178  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

There  was  a  pause  of  some  moments,  which  Julian 
Peveril,   willing  to  hear  to  what   conclusion  Major 
Bridgenorth  was  finally  to  arrive,  did  not  care  to  in- 
terrupt.    Accordingly,   in   a  few    minutes  the    latter 
proceeded. — "  These   things,"   he  said,  "  I  recal  not 
in  bitterness,  so  far  as  they  are  personal  to  me— I  re- 
cal them  not  in  spite  of  heart,  though  they  have  been 
the  means  of  banishing  me  from  my   place  of  resi- 
dence, where  my  fathers  dwelt,  and  where  my  earthly 
comforts  lie  interred.     But  the  public  cause  sets  far- 
ther strife  betwixt  your  father  and  me.     Who  so  active 
as  he  to  execute  the  fatal  edict  of  black  Saint  Bartho- 
lomew's  day,    when    so     many   hundreds   of   gospel 
preachers  were  expelled  from  house  and  home — from 
hearth  and  altar — from   church   and  parish,  to  make 
room   for  belly-gods  and  thieves?    Who,  when  a  de- 
voted few  of  the  Lord's  people  were  united  to  lift  the 
fallen   standard,  and    once  more  advance   the  good 
cause,   was  the  readiest   to  break  their  purpose-  to 
search  for,  persecute,  and  apprehend   them  ?  Whose 
breath  did  I  feel  warm   on  my  neck — whose  naked 
sword  was   thrust  within  a  foot" of  my  body,  whilst  I 
lurked   darkling,  like  a  thief  in  concealment,  in  the 
house  of  my  fathers  ? — It  was  Geonrey  Peveril's — it 
was  your  father's! — V.  hat  can  you  answer  to  all  this, 
or  how  can  you  reconcile  it  with  your  present  wishes?" 
Julian,  in  reply,  could   only  remark,  "  That  these 
injuries  had    been   of  long  standing — that   they  had 
been  done  in  heat  of  times,  and  heat  of  temper,  and 
that  Master  Bridgenorth,  in  christian  kindness,  should 
not  entertain  a  keen  resentment  of  them,  when  a  door 
was  opened  for  a  reconciliation." 

"  Peace,  young  man,"  said  Bridgenorth, "  thou  speak- 
est  of  thou  knowest  not  what.  To  forgive  our  human 
wrongs  is  christian-like  and  commendable;  but  we 
have  no  commission  to  forgive  those  which  have  been 
done  to  the  cause  of  religion  and  of  liberty  ;  we  have 
no  right  to  grant  immunity,  or  shake  hands  with  those 
who  have  poured  forth  the  blood  of  our  brethren." 
He  looked  at  the  picture  of  Christian,  and  was  silent 
for  a  few  minutes,  as  if  he  feared  to  give  too  violent 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  lf$ 

>vay  to  his  own  impetuosity,  and  resumed  the  dis- 
course in  a  milder  tone. 

"  These  things  I  point  out  to  *ou,  Julian  that,  I 
may  show  you  how  impossible,  in  the  eyes  of  a  merely 
worldly  man,  would  be  the  union  which  you  are  de- 
sirous of.  But  Heaven  hath  at  times  opened  a  door, 
where  man  beholds  no  means  of  issue.  Julian,  >our 
mother,  for  one  to  whom  the  trutli  is  unknown,  is, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  world,  one  of  the  best,  and  one 
of  the  wisest  of  women  :  and  Providence,  which  gave 
her  so  fair  a  form,  and  tenanted  that  form  with  a  mind 
as  pure  as  the  original  frailty  of  our  vile  nature  will 
permit,  means  not,  I  trust,  that  she  shall  continue  to 
the  end  to  be  a  vessel  of  wrath  and  perdition.  Of 
your  father  I  say  nothing — he  is  what  the  times  and 
example  of  others,  and  the  counsels  of  his  lordly 
priest,  have  made  him  ;  and  of  him,  once  more,  I  say 
nothing,  save  that  I  have  power  over  him,  which  ere 
now  he  might  have  felt,  but  that  there  is  one  within 
his  chambers,  who  might  have  suffered  in  his  suffering; 
Nor  do  I  wish  to  root  up  your  ancient  family.  If  I 
prize  not  your  boast  of  family  honours  and  pedigree, 
I  would  not  willingly  destroy  them  ;  more  than  I* 
would  pull  down  a  moss-grown  tower,  or  hew  to  the 
ground  an  ancient  oak,  save  for  the  straighting  of  the 
common  path,  and  the  advantaging  of  the  public.  I 
have,  therefore,  no  resentment  against  the  humbled 
House  of  Peveril — nay,  1  have  regard  to  it  in  its  de- 
pression." 

He  here  made  a  second  pause,  as  if  he  expected  Ju- 
lian to  say  something.  But  notwithstandining  the  ar- 
dour with  which  the  young  man  had  pressed  his  suit, 
he  was  too  much  trained  in  ideas  of  the  importance  of 
his  family,  and  in  the  bettor  habit  of  respect  for  his 
parents,  to  hear  without  displeasure,  some  part  of 
Bridgenorth*s  discourse. 

"The  house  of  Peveril,"  he  replied,  "  was  never 
humbled." 

"  Had  you  said  the  sous  of  that  house  had  never  been 
humble?  answered  Bridgenorth,  "you  would  have 
come  nearer  the  truth. — Are  you  not  humbled  ?  Live 
you  not  here,  the  lackey  of  a  haughty  woman,  the  play 


180  '    PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

companion  of  an  empty  youth?  If  you  leave  this  Isle 
and  go  to  the  court  of  England,  see  what  regard  will 
there  be  paid  to  tlfe  old  pedigree  that  deduces  your 
descent  from  king  and  conquerors.  A  scurril  or  ob- 
scene jest,  an  impudent  carriage,  a  laced  cloak,  a 
handful  of  gold,  and  the  readiness  to  wager  it  on  a 
card,  or  a  die,  will  better  advance  you  at  the  court  of 
Charles,  thau  your  father's  ancient  name,  and  slavish 
devotion  of  blood  and  fortune  to  the  cause  of  his  fa- 
ther." 

"That  is,  indeed,  but  too  probable,"  said  Peveril ; 
"  but  the  court  shall  be  no  element  of  mine.  I  will 
live  like  my  fathers,  among  my  own  people,  care  for 
their  comforts,  decide  their  differences " 

"Build  May-poles,  and  dance  around  them,"  said 
Bridgenorth,  with  another  of  those  grim  smiles,  which 
passed  over  his  features  like  the  light  of  a  sexton's 
torch  as  it  glares  and  is  reflected  by  the  window  of  the 
church,  when  he  comes  from  locking  a  funeral  vault. 
"  No  Julian,  these  are  not  times  in  which,  by  the 
dreaming  drudgery  of  a  country  magistrate,  and  the 
petty  cares  of  a  country  proprietor,  a  man  can  s'erve 
his  unhappy  country.  There  are  mighty  designs  afloat, 
and  men  are  called  to  make  their  choice  betwixt  God 
and  Baal.  The  ancient  superstition — the  abomination 
of  our  fathers — is  raising  its  head,  and  flinging  abroad 
its  snares,  under  the  protection  of  the  princes  of  the 
earth  ;  but  she  raises  not  her  head  unmarked  or  uu- 
watched  ;  the  true  English  hearts  are  as  thousands, 
which  wait  but  a  signal  to  arise  as  one  man,  and  show 
the  kings  of  the  earth  that  they  have  combined  in  vain  ! 
We  will  cast  their  cords  from  us — the  cup  of  their 
abominations  we  will  not  taste." 

"  You  speak  in  darkness,  Master  Bridgenorth,"  said 
Peveril.  "  Knowing  so  much  of  me,  you  may,  perhaps, 
also  be  aware,  that  I  at  least  have  seen  too  much  of  the 
delusions  of  Rome,  to  desire  that  they  should  be  pro- 
pagated at  home." 

"  Else,  wherefore  do  I  speak  to  thee  friendly  and  so 
free  ?"  said  Bridgenorth.  '«  Do  I  not  know,  wita  what 
readiness  of  early  wit  you  baffled  the  wily  attempts  of 
the  woman's  priest  to  seduce  thee  from  the  Piotes- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  1S1 

taut  faith  ?  Do  I  not  know,  bow  thou  wast  beset  when 
abroad,  and  that  thou  didst  both  hold  thine  own  faith 
and  secure  the  wavering  belief  of  thy  friend?  Said  I 
not,  this  was  done  like  the  son  of  Margaret  Peveril  ? 
Said  I  not,  he  holdeth,  as  yet,  but  the  dead  letter — but 
the  seed  which  is  sown  shall  one  day  sprout  and  quick- 
en ? — Enough,  however,  of  this.  For  to-day  this  is 
thy  habitation.  I  will  see  in  thee  neither  the  servant 
of  that  daughter  of  Ethbaal,  no  nor  the  son  of  him  who 
pursued  my  life,  and  blemished  my  honours ;  but  thou 
shalt  be  to  me,  for  this  day,  as  the  child  of  her  with- 
out whom  my  house  had  been  extinct." 

So  saying,  he  stretched  out  his  thin  bony  hand, 
and  grasped  that  of  Julian  Peveril ;  but  there  was 
such  a  look  of  mourning  in  his  welcome,  that  what- 
ever delight  the  youth  anticipated,  spending  so  long 
a  time  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Alice  Bridgenorth,. 
perhaps  in  her  society,  or  however  strongly  he  felt  the 
prudence  of  conciliating  her  father's  good  will,  he 
could  not  help  feeling  as  if  his  heart  was  chilled  in  his 
company. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

This  day  at  least  is  friendship's — on  the  morrow 

Let  strife  come  as  she  will.  Otway. 

Deborah  Debbitch,  summoned  by  her  master, 
now  made  her  appearance,  with  her  handkerchief 
at  her  eyes,  and  an  appearance  of  great  mental  trou- 
ble. "It  was  not  my  fault  Major  Bridgenorth,"  she 
said;  "how  could  I  help  it?  like  will  to  like — the 
boy  would  come — the  girl  would  see  him." 

"  Peace,  foolish  woman,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  and 
hear  what  I  have  got  to  say." 

"  I  know  what  your  honour  has  to  say  well  enough," 
said  Deborah.  "  Service,  I  wot  is  no  inheritance, 
now-a-days — some  are  wiser  than  other  some — if  I 
had  not  been  wheedled  away  from  Martindale,  I 
might  have  had  a  house  of  my  own  by  this  time." 

vol.  i.  10 


|'8*2  PEVERIL    OF.  THE    PEAK. 

"  Peace,  idiot  1"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  but  so  intent 
was  Deborah  on  her  own  vindication,  that  he  could 
but  thrust  the  interjection,  as  it  were  edgeways, 
between  her  exclamations,  which  followed  as  thick 
as  is  usual  in  cases,  where  folks  endeavour  to  avert 
deserved  censure  by  a  clamorous  justification  ere  the 
charge  be  brought. 

"  So  wonder  she  was  cheated,"  she  said,  "  out  of 
sight  of  her  own  interest,  when  it  was  to  wait  on  pret- 
ty Miss  Alice.  All  your  honour's  gold  should  never 
have  tempted  me,  but  that  I  knew  she  was  but  a  dead 
rast-a-v;  ay,  poor  innocent,  if  she  were  taken  away  from 
my  lady  or  me. — And  so  this  is  the  end  on't — up 
early,  and  down  late — and  this  is  all  my  thanks! — 
but  )Our  honour  had  better  take  care  what  you  do — 
she  has  the  short  cough  yet  sometimes — and  should 
take  physic,  spring  and  fall." 

*'  Peace,  chattering  fool !"  said  her  master,  so  soon 
as  her  failing  breath  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  strike 
in,  "thinkest  thou  I  knew  not  of  this  young  gen- 
tleman's vitsits  to  the  Black-Fort,  and  that  if  they 
had  displeased  me,  I  would  not  have  known  how  to 
stop  them  ?" 

"  Did  I  know  that  your  honour  knew  of  his  visits!" 
exclaimed  Deborah,  in  a  triumphant  tone, — for,  like 
most  of  her  condition,  she  never  sought  farther  for 
her  defence  than  a  lie,  however  inconsistent  and  im- 
probable— "  Did  I  know  that  your  honour  knew  of 
it? — Why,  how  should  I  have  permitted  his  visits 
else?  I  wonder  what  your  honour  takes  me  for! 
Had  I  not  been  sure  it*  was  the  thing  in  this  world* 
that  your  honour  most  desired,  would  I  have  presum- 
ed to  lend  it  a  hand  forward  ?  1  trust  I  know  my 
duty  better.  Hear  if  I  ever  asked  another  young- 
ster into  the  house  save  himself— for  I  knew  your  ho- 
nour was  wise,  and  quarrels  cannot  last  for  ever,  and 
love  begins  where  hatred  ends  ;  and,  to  be  sure  they 
look  as  if  they  were  born  one  for  the  other — and  then, 
the  estates  of  Moultrassie  and  Martindale  suit  each 
other  like  sheath  and  knife." 

««  Parrot   of  a  woman,  hold  your  tongue !"   said 
Brids-enorth.  his  patience  almost  completely  exhaust 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  183 

ed  ;  cs  or  if  you  will  prate,  let  it  be  to  your  play-fel- 
lows in  the  kitchen,  and  bid  them  get  us  some  dinner 
presently,  for  Master  Peveril  is  far  from  home." 

"  That  I  will,  and  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Deborah  ; 
"  and  if  there  are  a  pair  of  fatter  fowls  in  Man  than 
shall  clasp  their  wings  on  the  table  presently,  your 
honour  shall  call  me  goose  as  well  as  parrot."  She 
then  left  the  apartment. 

"  It  is  to  such  a  woman  as  that,"  said  Bridgenorth, 
looking  after  her  significantly,  "  that  you  conceive 
me  to  have  abandoned  the  charge  of  my  only  child? 
But  enough  of  this  subject — we  will  walk  abroad,  if 
you  will,  while  she  is  engaged  in  a  province  fitter  for 
her  understanding." 

So  saying,  he  left  the  house,  accompanied  by  Julian 
Peveril,  and  they  were  soon  walking  side  by  side,  as 
if  they  had  been  old  acquaintances. 

It  may  have  happened  to  many  of  our  readers,  as 
it  has  done  to  ourselves,  to  be  thrown  by  accident  in- 
to society  with  some  individual  whose  claims  to  what 
is  called  a  serious  character  stand  considerably  higher 
than  our  own,  and  with  whom  therefore,  we  have 
conceived  ourselves  likely  to  spend  our  tLne  in  a 
very  stiff  and  constrained  manner ;  while  on  the 
other  hand,  our  destined  companion  may  have  ap- 
prehended some  disgust  from  the  supposed  levity  and 
thoughtless  gaiety  of  a  disposition  so  different  from 
his  own.  Now  it  has  frequently  happened,  that  when 
we,  with  that  urbanity  and  good  humour  which  is  our 
principal  characteristic,  have  accommodated  ourself 
Ho  our  companion,  by  throwing  as  much  seriousness 
into  our  conversation  as  our  habits  will  admit,  he,  on 
the  other  hand,  moved  by  our  liberal  example,  hath 
divested  his  manners  of  a  part  of  their  austerity  ;  and 
our  conversation  has,  in  consequence,  been  of  that 
pleasant  texture,  betwixt  the  useful  and  agreeable, 
which  best  resembles  "  the  fairy-web  of  night  and 
day,"  usually  called  in  prose  the  twilight.  It  is  pro- 
bable both  parties  may,  on  such  occasions,  have  been 
the  better  for  their  encounter,  even  if  it  went  no  far- 
ther than  to  establish  for  the  time  a  community  ol 
feeling  between  men,  who,  separated  more  perhaps 


184  PEVERIL  OF    THE  TEAK. 

by  temper  than  by  principle,  are  too  apt  to  charge 
each  other  with  profane  frivolity  onthe  one  hand,  or 
fanaticism  on  the  other. 

It  fared  thus  in  Peveril's  walk  with  Bridgenorth. 
and  in  the  conversation  which  he  held  with  him. 

Carefully  avoiding  the  subject  on  which  he  had  al- 
ready spoken,  Master  Bridgenorth  turned  his  conver- 
sation chiefly  on  foreign  travel,  and  on  the  wonders 
he  had  seen  in  distant  countries,  and  which  he  ap- 
peared to  have  marked  with  a  curious  and  observant 
eye.  This  discourse  made  the  time  fly  light  away ; 
for  although  the  anecdotes  and  observations  thus 
communicated,  were  all  tinged  with  the  serious  and 
almost  gloomy  spirit  of  the  narrator,  they  yet  con- 
tained traits  of  interest  and  of  wonder,  such  as  arr 
usually  interesting  to  a  youthful  ear,  and  were  parti- 
cularly so  to  Julian,  who  had,  in  his  disposition, 
some  cast  of  the  romantic  and  adventurous. 

It  appeared  that  Bridgenorth  knew  the  south  of 
France,  and  could  tell  many  stories  of  the  French  Hu- 
guenots, who  already  began  to  sustain  those  vexations 
which  a  few  years  afterward  were  summoned  up  by 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantz.  He  had  even 
been  in  Hungary,  for  he  spoke  as  from  personal  know- 
ledge of  the  character  of  several  of  the  heads  of  the 
great  Protestant  insurrection,  which  at  this  time  had 
taken  place  under  the  celebrated  Tekeli  ;  and  laid 
down  solid  reasons  why  they  were  entitled  to  make 
common  cause  with  the  Great  Turk,  rather  than  sub- 
mit to  the  Pope  of  Rome.  He  talked  also  of  Savoy,, 
where  those  of  the  reformed  religion  still  suffered  a 
cruel  persecution  ;  and  he  mentioned,  with  a  swelling 
spirit,  the  protection  which  Oliver  had  afforded  to  the 
oppressed  Protestant  churches ;  "  there  in  showing 
himself/'  he  added,  "  more  fit  to  wield  the  supreme 
power,  than  those  who  claming  it  by  right  of  inheri- 
tance, use  it  only  for  their  own  vain  and  voluptuous 
pursuits." 

"  I   did  not  expect,"  said  Peveril,  modestly,  "  to 
have  heard  Oliver's  panegyric  from  you  Master  Bridge- 
north." 
"  I  do  not  panegyrise  him,"  answered  Bridgenorth  ; 


PEVERXL  OF  THE  PEAK.  18£ 

•*  I  speak  but  truth  of  that  extraordinary  man,  now 
being  dead,  whom,  when  alive,  I  feared  not  to  with- 
stand to  his  face.  It  is  the  fault  of  the  present  unhap- 
py King,  if  he  make  us  look  back  with  regret  to  the 
days  when  the  nation  was  respected  abroad,  and  when 
devotion  and  sobriety  were  practised  at  home. — But  I 
mean  not  to  vex  your  spirit  by  controversy.  You  have 
lived  amongst  those  who  find  it  more  easy  and  more- 
pleasant  to  be  the  pensioners  of  France  than  her  con- 
trollers— to  spend  the  money  which  she  doles  out  to 
themselves,  than  to  check  the  tyranny  with  which  she 
oppresses  our  poor  brethren  of  the  religion.  When 
the  scales  shaHjfali  from  thine  eyes,  ail  this  thou  shah 
see  ;  and  seeing,  shalt  learn  to  detest  and  despise  it." 

By  this  time  they  had  completed  their  walk,  and  were 
returned  to  Black-Fort  by  a»different  path  from  that 
which  had  led  them  up  the  valley.  The  exercise  and 
the  general  tone  of  conversation  had  removed,  in  some 
degree,  the  shyness  and  embarrassment  which  Peverii 
originally  felt  in  Bridgenorth's  presence,  and  which 
the  tenor  of  his  first  remarks  had  rather  increased  than 
diminished.  Deborah's  promised  banquet  was  soon  on 
the  board  ;  and  in  simplicity,  as  well  as  neatness  and 
good  order,  answered  the  character  she  had  claimed 
for  it.  In  one  respect  alone,  there  seemed  some  in- 
consistency, perhaps  a  little  affectation.  Most  of  the 
dishes  were  of  silver,  and  the  plates  were  of  the  same 
metal  ;  instead  of  the  trenchers  and  pewter  which  Pe- 
verii had  usually  seen  employed  on  similar  occasions 
at  Black-Fort. 

Presently,  with  the  feeling  of  one  who  walks  in  a 
pleasant  dream  from  which  he  fears  to  waken,  and 
whose  delight  is  mingled  with  wonder  and  with  un- 
certainty, Julian  Peverii  found  himself  seated  between 
Alice  Bridgenorth  and  her  father — the  being  he  most 
loved  on  earth,  and  the  person  whom  he  had  ever  con- 
sidered as  the  great  obstacle  to  their  intercourse. — 
The  confusion  of  his  mind  was  such,  that  he  could 
scarcely  reply  to  the  importunate  civilities  of  Dame 
Deborah ;  who  seated  with  thern  at  table  in  her  quality 
of  gouvernante,  now  dispensed  the  good  things  which 
.had  been  prepared  under  her  own  eye. 

1G  * 


186  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

As  for  Alice,  she  seemed  to  have  formed  a  resort 
lution  to  play  the  mute;  for  she  answered  not,  ex- 
cepting briefly,  to  the  questions  of  Dame  Debbitch  ; 
nay,  even  when  her  father,  which  happened  once  or 
twice,  attempted  to  bring  her  forward  in  the  conver- 
sation, she  made  no  further  reply  than  respect  for 
him  rendered  absolutely  necessary. 

Upon  Bridgenorth  himself,  then  devolved  the  task 
of  entertaining  the  company  ;  and,  contrary  to  his 
ordinary  habits,  he  did  not  seem  to  shrink  from  it; 
His  discourse  was  not  only  easy,  but  almost  cheer- 
ful, though  ever  and  anon  crossed  by  some  ex- 
pressions indicative  of  natural  and  habitual  melan- 
choly, or  prophetic  of  future  misfortune  and  woe. 
Flashes  of  enthusiasm,  too,  shot  along  his  conver- 
sation, gleaming  like  the«sheet-lightning  of  an  autumn 
eve.  which  throws  a  strong,  though  momentary  illu- 
mination across  the  sober  twilight,  and  all  the  sur- 
rounding objects,  which,  touched  by  it,  assume  a 
wilder  and  more  striking  character.  In  general,  how- 
ever, Bridgenorth's  remarks  were  plain  and  sensi- 
ble •  and  as  he  aimed  at  no  graces  of  language,  any 
ornament  which  they  received  arose  out  of  the  inte- 
rest with  which  they  were  impressed  on  his  hearer*. 
For  example,  when  Deborah  in  the  pride  and  vulga- 
rity of  her  heart,  called  Julian's  attention  to  the  platf 
from  which  they  had  been  eating,  Bridgenorth  seem- 
ed to  think  an  apology  necessary  for  such  superfluous 
expense. 

"It  was  a  symptom,"  he  said,  "  of  approaching 
danger,  when  men,  who  were  not  usually  influenced 
by  the  vanities  of  life,  employed  much  money  in  or- 
naments composed  of  the  precious  metals.  It  was  a 
sign  that  the  merchant  could  not  obtain  a  profit  for, 
the  capital,  which,  for  the  sake  of  security,  he  invest- 
ed in  this  inert  form.  It  was  a  proof  that  the  noble 
men  or  gentlemen  feared  the  rapacity  of  power,  when 
they  put  their  wealth  into  forms  the  most  portable  and 
the  most  capable  of  being  hidden  ;  and  it  showed  the 
uncertainty  of  credit,  when  a  man  of  judgment  pre- 
ferred the  actual  possession  of  a  mass  of  silver  to  the 
convenience  of  a  goldsmith's  or  a  banker's  receipt, 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  18? 

While  a  shadow  of  liberty  remained,"  he  said,  "  do- 
mestic rights  were  last  invaded  ;  and,  therefore,  meu 
disposed  upon  their  cupboards  and  tables  the  wealth 
which  in  these  places  would  remain  longest,  though 
not  perhaps,  finally,  sacred  from  the  grasp  of  a  tyran- 
nical government.  But  let  there  be  a  demand  for 
capital  to  support  a  profitable  commerce,  and  the 
mass  is  at  once  consigned  to  the  furnace,  and,  ceasing 
to  be  a  vain  and  cumberous  ornament  of  the  banquet, 
becomes  a  potent  and  acitve  agent  for  furthering  the 
prosperity  of  the  country." 

"  In  war,  too,"  said  Peveril,  "  plate  has  been  found 
a  ready  resource." 

"But  too  much  so,"  answered  Bridgenorth.  "In 
the  late  times,  the  plate  of  the  nobles  and  gentry  with 
that  of  the  colleges  and  the  sale  of  the  crown-jewels, 
enabled  the  king  to  make  his  unhappy  stand,  which 
prevented  matters  returning  to  a  state  of  peace  and 
good  order,  until  the  sword  had  attained  an  undue 
superiority  both  over  king  and  parliament." 

He  looked  at  Julian  as  he  spoke,  much  as  he  who 
proves  a  horse  offers  some  object  suddenly  to  his 
eyes,  then  watches  to  see  if  he  starts  or  blenches  from 
it.  But  Julian's  thoughts  were  too  much  bent  on 
other  topics  to  manifest  any  alarm.  His  answer  re- 
ferred to  a  previous  part  of  Bridgenorth's  discourse^ 
and  was  not  returned  till  after  a  brief  pause.  "  War^ 
then,"  he  said,  "  war,  the  grand  impoverishes  is  also 
a  creator  of  the  wealth  which  it  wastes  and  devours." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Bridgenorth,  "  even  as  the  sluice 
brings  into  action  the  sleeping  waters  of  the  lake, 
which  it  linally  drains.  Necessity  invents  arts  and 
discovers  means  ;  and  what  necessity  is  sterner  than 
that  of  civil  war?  Therefore,  even  war  is  not  in  itself 
unmixed  evil,  being  the  creator  of  impulses  and  ener- 
gies which  could  not  otherwise  have  existed  in  so- 
ciety." 

"  Men  should  go  to  war,  then,"  said  Peveril,  "that 
ihey  may  send  their  silver-plate  to  the  mint,  and  eat 
from  pewter  dishes  and  wooden  platters  ?" 
*  "  Not  so,  iny  son,"  said  Bridgenorth.     Then  check- 
er! himself  as  he  observed  the  deep  crimson  in  Ju* 


188  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAtf. 

Han's  cheek  and  brow,  he  added,  "  I  crave  your  pardon 
for  such  familiarity  ;  but  [  meant  not  to  limit  what  I 
said  even  now  to  such  trifling  consequences,  although 
it  may  be  something  salutary  to  tear  men  from  their 
pomps  and  luxuries,  and  teach  those  to  be  Romans 
who  would  otherwise  be  Sybarites.  But  I  would  say„ 
that  times  of  public  danger,  as  they  call  into  circula- 
tion the  miser's  hoard  and  the  proud  man's  bullion, 
and  so  add  to  the  circulating  wealth  of  the  country,  do 
also  call  into  action  many  a  brave  and  noble  spirit, 
which  would  otherwise  lie  torpid,  give  no  example  to 
the  living,  and  bequeath  no  name  to  future  ages.  So- 
ciety knows  not,  and  cannot  know,  the  mental  trea- 
sures which  slumber  in  her  bosom,  till  necessity  and 
opportunity  cali  forth  the  statesman  and  the  soldier 
from  the  shades  of  lowly  life  to  the  parts  they  are  de- 
signed by  Providence  to  perform,  and  the  station 
which  nature  had  qualified  them  to  hold.  So  rose 
Oliver — so  rose  Milton — so  rose  many  another  name 
which  cannot  be  forgotten — even  as  the  tempest  sum- 
mons forth  and  displays  the  address  of  the  mariner." 

"  You  speak,"  said  Peveril, "  as  if  national  calamity 
might  be,  in  some  sort,  an  advantange." 

"  And  if  it  were  not  so,"  replied  Bridgenorth,  "  it 
had  not  existed  in  this  state  of  trial,  where  all  tempo- 
ral evil  is  alleviated  by  something  good  in  its  progress 
or  result,  and  where  all  that  is  good  is  close  coupled 
with  that  which  is  in  itself  evil." 

"  It  must  be  a  noble  sight,"  said  Julian,  "  to  behold 
the  slumbering  energies  of  a  great  mind  awakened  into 
energy,  and  see  it  assume  the  authority  which  is  its 
clue  over  spirils  more  meanly  endowed." 

"  I  once  witnessed,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  something 
fo  the  same  effect ;  and  as  the  tale  is  brief,  I  will  tell 
it  you,  if  you  will  : — 

k<  Amongst  my  wanderings,  the  Transatlantic  set- 
tlements have  not  escaped  me  ;  more  especially  the 
country  of  New  England,  into  which  our  native  land 
has  shaken  from  her  lap,  as  a  drunkard  flings  from 
him  his  treasures,  so  much  that  is  precious  in  the  eyes 
of  God  and  of  his  children.  There  thousands  of  our 
Nest  and  most  godly  men — such  whose  righteousness 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    TEAK.  ISP 

might  come  between  the  Almighty  and  his  wrath,  and 
prevent  the  ruin  of  cities— are  content  to  be  the  in- 
habitants of  the  desert,  rather  encountering  the  unen- 
lightened savages,  than  stooping  to  extinguish,  under 
the  oppression  practised  in  Britain,  the  light  that 
is  within  their  own  minds.  There  I  remained  for  a 
time,  during  the  wars  which  the  colony  maintained 
with  Philip,  a  great  Indian  Chief,  or  Sachem  as  they 
were  called,  who  seemed  a  messenger  sent  from  Satan 
to  buffet  them.  His  cruelty  was  great — his  dissimu- 
lation profound ;  and  the  skill  and  promptitude  with 
which  he  maintained  a  destructive  and  desultory 
warfare,  inflicted  many  dreadful  calamities  on  the 
settlement,  i  was,  by  chance,  at  a  small  village  in 
the  woods,  more  (ban  thirty  miles  from  Boston,  and 
in  its  situation  exceedingly  lonely,  and  surrounded 
with  thickets.  Nevertheless,  there  was  no  idea  of  any 
danger  from  the  Indians  at  that  time,  for  men  trust- 
ed to  the  protection  of  a  considerable  body  of  troops 
who  had  taken  the  field  for  protection  of  the  frontiers., 
and  who  lay,  or  were  supposed  to  lie,  betwixt  the 
hamlet  and  the  enemy's  country.  But  they  had  to  d© 
with  a  foe,  whom  the  devil  himself  had  inspired  at 
once  with  cunning  and  cruelty.  It  was  on  a  Sab- 
bath morning,  when  we  had  assembled  to  take  sweet 
counsel  together  in  the  Lord's  house.  Our  tem- 
ple was  but  constructed  of  wooden  logs ;  but  when* 
shall  the  chaunt  of  trained  hirelings,  or  the  sounding 
of  tin  and  brass  tubes  amid  the  aisles  of  a  minister, 
arise  so  sweetly  to  heaven,  as  did  the  psalm  in  which 
we  united  at  once  our  hearts  and  our  voices  S  An  ex- 
cellent worthy,  who  now  sleeps  in  the  Lord,  Nehe- 
miah  Solsgrace,  long  the  companion  of  my  pilgrim- 
age, had  just  begun  to  wrestle  in  prayer,  when  a  wo- 
man, with  disordered  looks  and  dishevelled  hair,  en- 
tered our  chapel  in  a  distracted  manner,  screaming 
incessantly,  *  The  Indians  !  The  Indians  !' — In  that 
land  no  man  dares  separate  himself  from  his  defences; 
and  whether  in  the  city  or  in  the  field,  in  the  ploughed 
land  or  the  forest,  men  keep  beside  them  their  wea- 
pons, as  did  the  Jews  at  the  rebuilding  of  the  Temple. 
So  we  sallied  forth  with  our  guns  and  pikes,  and  heard 


190  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

the  whoop  of  these  incarnate  devils,  already  in  pos 
session  of  a  part  of  a  town,  and  exercising  their  cru- 
elty on  the  tew  whom  weighty  causes  or  indisposion 
had  withheld  from  public  worship;  and  it  was  remark- 
ed as  a  judgment,  that,  upon  that  bloody  Sabbath, 
Adrian  Hanson,  a  Dutchman,  a  man  well  enough 
towards  man,  but  whose  mind  was  altogether  given 
to  worldly  gain,  was  shot  and  scalped  as  he  was  sum- 
ming his  weekly  gains  in  his  warehouse.  In  fine,  there 
was  much  damage  done,  and  although  our  arrival  and 
entrance  into  combat  did  in  some  s  rt  put  them  back, 
yet  being  surprised  and  confused,  and  having  no  ap- 
pointed leader  of  our  band,  the  devilish  enemy  shot 
hard  at  us,  and  had  some  advantage.  It  was  pitiful 
to  hear  the  screams  of  women  and  children  amid  the 
report  of  guns  and  the  whistling  of  bullets,  mixed 
with  the.  ferocious  yells  of  these  savages,  which  they 
term  their  war-whoop.  Several  houses  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  village  were  soon  on  fire  ;  and  the  roaring 
of  the  flames,  and  crackling  of  the  great  beams  as  they 
blazed,  added  to  the  horrible  confusion  ;  while  the 
smoke  which  the  wind  drove  against  us  gave  further 
advantage  to  the  enemy,  who  fought,  as  it  were,  in- 
visible, and  under  cover,  whilst  we  fell  fast  by  their 
unerring  lire.  In  this  state  of  confusion,  and  while 
we  were  about  to  adopt  the  desperate  project  of  eva- 
luating the  village,  and,  placing  the  women  and  child- 
ren in  the  centre,  of  attempting  a  retreat  to  the  near- 
est settlement,  it  pleased  Heaven  to  send  us  unexpect- 
ed assistance.  A  tall  man,  of  a  reverend  appearance, 
whom  no  one  of  us  had  ever  seen  before,  suddenly 
was  in  the  midst  of  us,  as  he  hastily  agitated  the  reso- 
lution of  retreating.  His  garments  were  of  the  skin 
of  the  elk,  and  he  wore  sword,  and  carried  gun  ;  I 
never  saw  any  thing  more  august  than  his  features, 
overshadowed  by  locks  of  grey  hair,  which  mingled 
with  a  long  beard  of  the  same  colour.  '  Men  and 
brethren/  he  said,  in  a  voice  like  that  which  turns 
back  the  flight,  *  why  sink  your  hearts?  and  why  are 
you  thus  disquieted  ?  Fear  ye  that  the  God  we  serve 
will  give  you  up  to  yonder  heathen  dogs  ?  Follow  mc 
and  you  shall  see  this  day  that  there  is  a  captain  m 


PEVERIL    0£    THE    PEAK.  101 

Israel !'  He  uttered  a  lew  brief  but  distinct  orders,  in 
the  tone  of  one  who  was  accustomed   to  command  ; 
and  such  was  the  influence   of  his   appearance,  his 
mien,  his  language,  and  his  presence  of  mind,  that  he- 
was  implicitly  obeyed  by  men  who  had  never  seen  him 
until  that  moment.     We  were  hastily  divided,  at  his 
order,  into  two  bodies;  one  of  which  maintained  the 
defence  of  the  village  with  more  courage  than  ever, 
convinced  that  the  Unknown  was  sent  by  God  to  our 
rescue.     At  his  command  they  assumed  the  best  and 
most  sheltered  position  for  exchanging  their  deadly 
fire  with   the    Indians  ;    while,    under  cover  of  the 
smoke,  the  stranger  sallied   from    the    town,   at  the 
head  of  the   other  division    of  the    New  England 
men,  and,  fetching  a  circuit,  attacked  the  Red  War- 
riors in  the  rear.     The  surprise,  as  is  usual  amongst 
savages,  had  complete  effect;   for  they  doubted  not 
that  they  were  assailed  in  their  turn,  and  placed  be- 
twixt  two  hostile  parties  by  the   return  of  a  detach- 
ment from  the  provincial  army.     The  heathens  fled 
in  confusion,  abandoning  the  half-won  village,  and 
leaving  behind  them  such  a  number  of  their  warriors, 
that  the  tribe  hath  never  recorded  their  loss.     Never 
shall  I  forget  the  figure  of  our  venerable  leader,  when 
our  men,  and  not  they  only,  but  the  women  and  chil- 
dren of  the  village,  rescued  from  the  tomahawk  and 
seal  ping-knife,  stood  crowded  around  him,  yet  scarce 
venturing  to  approach  his  person,  and  more  minded, 
perhaps,  to  worship  him  as  a  descended  angel,  than 
to  thank  him  as   a   fellow-mortal.     '  Not  unto  me  be 
the  glory/  he  said;     'I  am  but  an  implement,  frail 
as  yourselves  in  the  hand  of  Him  who  is  strong  to  de- 
liver.    Bring  me  a  cup  of  water,  that  I  may  allay  my 
parched  throat,  ere  I  assay  the  task  of  offering  thanks 
where  they  are  most  due.'     I  was  nearest  to  him  as 
lie  spoke,  and  I  gave  into  his  hand  the  water  he  re- 
quested.    At   that  moment  we   exchanged   glances, 
and  it  seemed  to' me  that  I  recognized  a  noble  friend 
whom  I  had  long  since  deemed  in  glory  ;  but  he  gave 
me  no   time  to   speak,  had   speech   been   prudent. 
Sinking  on  his  knees,  and  signing  us  to  obey  him-. 


192  TEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

he  poured  forth  a  strong  and  energetic  thanksgiving 
for  the  turning  back  of  the  battle,  which  prouounced 
with  a  voice  loud  and  clear  as  a  war  trumpet,  thrilled 
through  the  joints  and  marrow  of  the  hearers.  I  have 
heard  many  an  act  of  devotion  in  my  life,  had 
Heaven  vouchsafed  me  grace  to  profit  by  them ;  but 
such  a  prayer  as  this,  uttered  amid  the  dead  and  the  dy- 
ing, with  a  rich  tone  of  mingled  triumph  and  adora- 
tion, was  beyond  them  all — it  was  like  the  song  of 
the  inspired  prophetess  who  dwelt  beneath  the  balm- 
tree  between  Ramah  and  Bethel.  He  was  silent;  and 
for  a  brief  space  we  remained  with  our  faces  bent  to 
to  the  earth — no  man  daring  to  lift  his  head.  At 
length  we  looked  up,  but  our  deliverer  was  no  longer 
amongst  us;  nor  was  he  ever  again  seen  in  the  land 
which  he  had  rescued." 

Here  Bridgenorth,  who  had  told  this  singular  story 
with  an  eloquence  and  vivacity  of  detail  very  con- 
trary to  the  usual  dryness  of  his  conversation,  paused 
for  an  instant,  and  then  resumed : — "  Thou  seest, 
young  man,  that  men  of  valour  and  of  discretion  are 
called  forth  to  command  in  circumstances  of  national 
exigence,  though  their  very  existence  is  unknown  in 
the  land  which  they  are  predestined  to  deliver." 

"  But  what  thought  the  people  of  the  mysterious 
stranger?"  said  Julian,  who  had  listened  with  eager- 
ness, for  the  story  was  of  a  kind  interesting  to  the 
youthful  and  the  brave. 

"Many  things,"  answered  Bridgenorth,  "and  as 
usual,  little  to  the  purpose.  The  prevailing  opinion 
was,  notwithstanding  his  own  disclamation,  that  the 
stranger  was  really  a  supernatural  being;  others  be- 
lieved him  an  inspired  champion,  transported  in  the 
body  from  some  distant  climate,  to  show  us  the  way 
to  safety ;  others,  again  concluded  that  he  was  a  re- 
cluse, who,  either  from  motives  of  piety,  or  other  co- 
gent reasons,  had  become  a  dweller  in  the  wilderness, 
and  shunned  the  face  of  man." 

"  And,  if  I  may  presume  to  ask,"  said  Julian,  "to 
which  of  these  opinions  were  you  disposed  to  adhere  ?" 

"  The  last  suit  best  with  the  transcient  though  close 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  193 

view  with  which  I  had  perused  the  stranger's  features," 
replied  Bridgenorth  ;  '*  for  although  i  dispute,  not  that 
it  may  please  Heaven,  on  high  occasions,  even  to  raise 
one  from  the  dead  in  defence  of  his  country,  yet  I 
doubted  not  then,  as  I  doubt  not  now,  that  I  looked  on 
the  living  form  of  one?  who  had  indeed  powerful  reasons 
to  conceal  him  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock." 

14  Are  these  reasons  a  secret  ?"  asked  Julian  Peveril. 

"  Not  properly  a  secret,"  replied  Bridgenorth;  "  for 
I  fear  not  thy  betraying  what  I  might  tell  thee  in  private 
discourse  ;  and  besides,  wert  thou  so  bise,  the  prey  lies 
too  distant  for  any  hunters  to  whom  thou  couldst  point 
out  its  traces.  But  the  name  of  this  worthy  will  sound 
harsh  in  thy  ear,  on  account  of  one  action  of  his  life — 
being  his  accession  to  a  great  measure,  which  made  the 
extreme  isles  of  the  earth  to  tremble.  Have  you  never 
heard  of  Richard  Whalley  ?" 

'*  Of  the  regicide?"  exclaimed  Peveril,  starting. 

"Call  his  act  what  thou  wilt,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  he 
was  not  less  the  rescuer  of  that  devoted  village,  that, 
with  other  leading  spirits  of  the  age.  he  sat  in  the  judg- 
ment seat  when  Charles  Stuart  was  arraigned  at  the  bar, 
and  subscribed  the  sentence  that  went  forth  upon  him." 

"  I  have  ever  heard,"  said  Julian,  in  an  altered  voice, 
and  colouring  deeply  "  that  you.  Master  Bridgenorth, 
with  other  Presbyterians,  were  totall)  averse  to  that  de- 
testable crime,  and  were  ready  to  have  made  joint  cause 
with  the  Cavaliers  in  preventing  so  horrible  a  parricide." 

"  If  it  were  so,"  replied  Bridgenorth,  i%  we  have  been 
richly  rewarded  by  his  successor." 

*"  Rewarded  !"  exclaimed  Julian  ;  "  Does  the  dis- 
tinction of  good  and  evil,  and  our  obligation  to  do  the 
one  and  forbear  the  other,  depend  on  the  reward  which 
may  attach  to  our  actions  ?" 

"  God  forbid."  answered  Bridgenorth  ;  "  yet  those 
who  view  the  havoc  which  this  House  of  Stuart  have 
made  in  the,  church  and  State — the  tyranny  whxhthey 
exercise  over  men'<  persons  and  consciences — ma)  well 
doubt  vvhether  it  be  lawful  to  use  weapons  ki  their  de- 

vol.  i.  17 


194  i'EVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

fence.  Yet  you  hear  me  not  praise,  or  even  vindicate 
the  death  of  the  King,  though  so  far  deserved,  as  he  was 
false  to  his  oath  as  a  Prince  and  magistrate.  1  only  tell 
you  what  you  desired  to  know,  that  Richard  Whalley, 
^one  of  the  late  King's  judges,  was  he  of  whom  I  have 
just  been  speaking.  I  knew  his  lofty  brow,  though  time 
had  made  it  balder  and  higher ;  his  gray  eye  retained  all 
its  lustre;  and  though  the  grizzled  beard  covered  the 
lower  part  of  his  face,  it  prevented  me  not  from  recog- 
nizing him.  The  scent  was  hot  after  him  for  his  blood  ; 
but  by  the  assistance  of  those  friends  whom  Heaven  had 
raised  up  for  his  preservation,  he  was  concealed  careful- 
ly, and  emerged  only  to  do  the  will  of  Providence,  in  the 
matter  of  that  battle.  Perhaps  his  voice  may  be  heard 
in  the  field  once  more,  should  England  need  one  of  her 
noblest  hearts." 

"  Now  God  forbid  !"  said  Julian. 

"  Amen,"  returned  Bridgenorth.  "  May  God  avert 
civil  war,  and  pardon  those  whose  madness  would  bring 
it  on  us." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  Julian,  who 
had  scarce  lifted  his  eyes  towards  Alice,  stole  a  glance 
in  that  direction,  and  was  struck  by  the  deep  cast  of  me- 
lancholy which  had  stolen  over  features,  to  which  a 
cheerful,  if  not  a  gay  expression,  was  most  natural.  So 
soon  as  she  caught  his  rye.  she  remarked,  and,  as  Ju- 
lian thought,  with  significance,  that  the  shadows  were 
lengthening,  and  evening  coming  on. 

He  heard  ;  and  although  satisfied  that  she  hinted  at 
his  departure,  he  could  not,  upon  the  instant,  find  reso- 
lution to  break  the  spell  which  detained  him.  The 
language  which  Bridgenorth  held  was  not  only  new  and 
alarming,  but  so  contrary  to  the  maxims  in  which  he 
was  brought  up,  that,  as  a  son  of  Sir  Geoffre)  Peveril 
of  the  Peak,  he  would,  in  another  case,  have  thought 
himself  called  upon  to  dispute  its  conclusions,  even  at 
th»'  sword's  point.  But  Bridgenorth's  opinions  were  dc- 
liv  f  wd  with  so  much  calmness — seemed  so  much  the 
result  of  conviction — that  they  excited  in  Julian  rather 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  195 

a  spirit  of  wonder,  than  of  angry  controversy.  There 
was  a  character  of  sober  decision,  and  sedate  melancho- 
ly, in  all  that  he  said ;  which,  even  had  he  not  been  the 
father  of  Alice,  (and  perhaps  Julian  was  not  himself 
aware  how  much  he  was  influenced  by  that  circum- 
stance,) would  have  rendered  it  difficult  to  take  personal 
offence.  His  language  and  sentiments  were  of  that 
quiet,  yet  decided  kind,  upon  which  it  is  difficult  either 
to  fix  controversy,  or  quarrel,  although  it  be  impossible 
to  acquiesce  in  the  conclusions,  to  which  they  lead. 

While  Julian  remained,  as  if  spell-bound  to  his  chair, 
scarce  more  surprised  at  the  company  in  which  he  found 
himself,  than  at  the  opinions  to  which  he  was  listening, 
another  circumstance  reminded  him  that  the  proper  time 
of  his  stay  at  Black-Fort  had  been  expended.  Lirtle 
Fairy,  the  Manx  poney,  which,  well  accustomed  to  the 
vicinity  of  Black-Fort,  used  to  feed  near  the  hduse  while 
his  master  made  his  visits  there,  began  to  find  his  pre- 
sent stay  rather  too  long.  She  had  been  the  gift  of  the 
Countess  to  Julian,  whilst  a  youth,  and  came  of  a  high- 
spirited  mountain  breed,  remarkable  alike  for  hardiness, 
for  longevity,  and  for  a  degree  of  sagacity  approaching 
to  that  of  the  dog.  Fairy  showed  the  latter  quality,  by 
the  way  in  which  she  chose  to  express  her  impatience 
to  be  moving  homewards.  At  least  such  seemed  the 
purpose  of  the  shrill  neigh  with  which  she  startled  the 
female  inmates  of  the  parlour,  who,  the  moment  after- 
wards, could  not  forbear  smiling  to  see  the  nose  of  the 
poney  advanced  through  the  opened  casement. 

"  Fairy  reminds  me,"  said  Julian,  looking  to  Alice, 
and  rising,  "  that  the  term  of  my  stay  here  is  exhausted." 

"  Speak  with  me  yet  one  moment,"  said  Bridgenorth, 
withdrawing  him  into  a  Gothic  recess  of  the  old-fashion- 
ed apartment,  and  speaking  so  low  that  he  could  not  be 
overheard  by  Alice  and  her  gouvcrnante,  who,  in  the 
mean-time,  caressed,  and  fed  with  fragments  of  bread, 
the  intruder  Fairy. 

"  You  have  not,  after  all,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  told 
me  the  cause  of  your  coming  hither."     He  stopped,  as 


196  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

if  to  enjoy  his  embarrassment,  and  then  added  "  and 
indeed  it  were  most  unnecssary  that  you  should  do  so. 
"  I  have  not  so  far  forgotten  the  days  of  my  youth,  or 
those  affections  which  bind  poor  frail  humanity  but  too 
much  to  the  things  of  this  world.  Will  you  find  no 
-word-,  to  ask  of  me  the  great  boon  which  you  seek,  and 
which,  peradventure,  you  would  not  have  hesitated  to 
make  your  own,  without  my  knowledge,  and  against  my 
consent  ? — Nay,  never  vindicate  thyself,  but  mark  me 
farther.  The  patriarch  bought  his  beloved  by  four- 
teen years  hard  service  to  her  father  Laban,  and  they 
seemed  fo  him  but  as  a  few  days.  But  he  that  would 
Wf  d  my  daughter,  must  serve,  in  comparison,  but  a 
few  days  ;  though  in  matters  of  such  mighty  import, 
that  they  shall  seem  as  the  service  of  many  years. 
— Reply  .^not  to  me  now,  but  go,  and  peace  be  with 
you."    ^^ 

He  retired  so  quickly,  after  speaking,  that  Peveril 
hal  literally  not  an  instant  to  reply.  He  cast  his  eyes 
around  the  apartment,  but  Deborah  and  her  charge  had 
also  disappeared.  His  gaze  rested  for  a  moment  on  the 
portrait  of  Christian,  and  his  imagination  suggc-ted, 
•h;t  his  dark  features  were  illuminated  by  a  smile  of 
haughty  triumph.  He  started,  and  looked  more  atten- 
tively— it  was  but  the  effect  of  the  evening  beam,  which 
touched  the  picture  at  the  instant.  The  effect  was  gone, 
and  there  remained  but  the  fixed,  grave,  inflexible  fea- 
tures of  the  republican  soldier. 

Julian  left  the  apartment  as  one  who  walks  in  a  dream ; 
he  mounted  Fairy,  and,  agitated  by  a  variety  of  thoughts, 
which  he  was  unable  to  reduce  to  order,  he  returned  to 
Castle-Rushiu  before  the  night  sat  down. 

Here  he  found  all  in  movement.  The  Countess,  with 
her  son,  had,  upon  some  news  received,  or  resolution 
formed,  during  his  absence,  removed,  with  a  principal 
part  of  their  family,  to  the  yet  stronger  Castle  of  Holm- 
Peel,  about  eight  miles  distance  across  the  island  ;  and 
which  had  be<m  suffered  to  fall  into  a  much  more  dilapi- 
dated  condition   than    that   of  Castletown  ;  so  far  as  it 


PEVRRIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  197 

could  be  considered  as  a  place  of  residence.  But  as  a 
frtress,  Holm-Peel  was  stronger  than  Castletown; 
nay,  unless  assailed  regularly,  was  almost  impregnable; 
and  was  always  held  by  a  garrison  belonging  to  the 
Lords  of  Man.  Here  Peveril  arrived  at  night  fall.  He 
was  told  in  the  fishing  village,  that  the  night  bell  of  the 
Castle  had  been  rung  earlier  than  usual,  and  the  watch 
set  with  circumstances  of  unusual  and  jealous  precau- 
tion. 

Resolving,  therefore,  not  to  disturb  the  garrison  by 
entering  at  that  late  hour,  he  obtained  an  indifferent 
lodging  in  the  town  for  the  night,  and  determined  to  go 
to  the  Castle  early  on  the  succeeding  morning.  He  was 
not  sorry  thus  to  gain  a  few  hours  of  solitude,  to  think 
over  the  agitating  events  of  the  preceding  day. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


What  seemed  it  s  bead, 

The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on. 

Paradise  Lost. 

Sodor,  or  Holm-Peel,  so  is  named  the  castle  to  which 
our  Julian  directed  his  course  early  on  the  preceding 
morning,  is  one  of  those  singular  monuments  of  anti- 
quity with  which  this  singular  and  interesting  island 
abounds.  It  occupies  he  whole  of  a  high,  rocky  pe- 
ninsula, or  rather  an  island,  for  it  is  surrounded  by  the 
sea  at  high  water,  aud  scarcely  accessible  even  when 
the  tide  is  out.  although  a  stone  causeway,  of  great  so- 

!7r* 


i  98  PEVERIL    Or    THE    TEAK. 

lidity,  erected  for  the  express  purpose,  connects  the  is- 
land with  the  main  land.  The  whole  space  is  surround- 
ed by  double  walls  of  great  strength  and  thickness;  and 
the  acctss  to  the  interior,  at  the  time  which  we  treat  of, 
was  only  by  two  flights  of  steep  and  narrow  steps,  di- 
vided from  each  other  by  a  strong  tower  and  guard 
house  ;  under  the  former  of  which,  there  is  an  entrance 
arch.  The  open  space  within  the  walls  extends  to  two 
acres,  and  contains  many  objects  worthy  of  antiquarian 
curiosity.  There  were,  besides,  the  castle  itself,  to 
cathedral  churches,  dedicated,  the  earlier  to  Saint  Pa- 
trick, the  later  to  Saint  Germain;  besides  two  smaller 
churches  ;  all  of  which  had  become,  even  in  that  day, 
more  or  less  ruinous.  Their  decayed  walls,  exhibiting 
the  rude  and  massive  architecture  of  the  most  remote 
period,  were  composed  of  a  ragged  gray  stone,  which 
formed  a  singular  contrast  with  the  bright  red  freestone 
of  which  the  window  cases,  corne-rstones,  arches,  and 
other  ornamental  parts  of  the  building  were  composed. 
Besides  these  four  ruinous  churches,  the  space  of 
ground  inclosed  by  the  massive  exterior  walls  of  Holm- 
Peel,  exhibited  many  other  vestiges  of  the  olden  time. 
There  was  a  square  mound  of  earth,  facing  with  its 
angles  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  one  of  tho>e  motes, 
as  they  were  called,  on  which,  in  ancient  times,  the 
northern  tribes  elected  or  recognized  their  chiefs,  and 
held  their  solemn  popular  assemblies,  or  comitia.  There 
was  also  one  of  those  singular  towers,  so  common  in 
Ireland  as  to  have  proved  the  favourite  theme  of  her 
antiquaries;  but  of  which  the  real  use  and  meaning 
seems  vet  to  be  hidden  in  the  mist  of  ages.  This  of 
Holm- Peel  had  been  convened  to  the  purpose  of  a  watch 
tower.  There  were,  besides,  Runic  monuments,  of 
which  tie  legends  could  not  be  deciphered  ;  and  later 
inscriptions  to  the  memory  of  champions,  of  whom  the 
names  only  were  preserved  from  oblivion.  But  tradi- 
tion and  superstitious  eld.  still  most  bus>  where  real  his- 
tory is  silent,  had  iilled  up  the  long  blank  of  accurate 
information    with  tales  of  Sea-kiugs  and  Pirates,  He- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  19S 

bridean  Chiefs  and  Norwegian  Resolutes,  who .  bad 
formerly  warred  against,  and  in  defence  of,  this  famous 
castle.  Superstition,  too,  had  her  tales  of  fairies,  ghosts, 
and  spectres — her  legends  of  saints  and  demons,  of 
fairies  and  of  familiar  spirits,  which  in  no  corner  of  the 
British  empire  are  toid  and  received  with  more  absolute 
credulity  than  in  ihe  Isle  of  Man. 

Amidst  all  these  ruins  of  an  older  time  arose  the 
Castle  itself, — now  ruinous — but  in  Charles  II. 's  reign 
well  garrisoned*  and  in  a  military  point  of  view,  kept 
in  complete  order.  It  was  a  venerable  and  very  ancient 
building,  containing  several  apartments  of  sufficient 
size  and  height  to  be  termed  noble.  But  in  the  surren- 
der of  the  island  by  (  hr  stian,  the  furniture  had  been, 
in  a  great  measure,  plundered  or  destroyed  by  the  re- 
publican soldiers ;  so  that,  as  we  have  before  hinted,  its 
present  state  was  ill  adapted  for  the  residence  of  the 
noble  proprietor.  Yet  it  had  been  often  the  abode,  not 
only  of  the  Lords  of  Man,  but  of  those  state  prisoners 
whom  the  Kings  of  Britain  sometimes  committed  to  their 
charge. 

In  this  Castle  of  Holm-Peel  the  great  king  maker, 
Retard  Carl  of  Warwick,  was  confined,  during  one 
period  of  his  eventful  life,  to  ruminate  at  leisure  on  his 
farther  schemes  of  ambition.  And  here,  too,  Eleanor, 
the  haughty  wife  of  the  good  Duke  of  Gloucester,  pined 
out  in  seclusion  the  last  days  of  her  banishment.  The 
sentinels  pretended  that  her  discontented  spectre  was  oft- 
en visible  at  ni^ht,  traversing  the  battlements  of  the  ex- 
ternal walls,  or  standing  motionless  beside  a  particular 
solitary  turret  of  one  of  the  watchtowers  with  which 
they  are  flanked  ;  but  dissolving  into  air  at  cock-crow, 
or  when  the  bell  tolled  from  the  yet  remaining  tower  of 
Saint  Germain's  Cliurch. 

Such  was  Holm-Peel,  as  records  inform  us,  till  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  seventeeth  century. 

It  was  in  'one  of  the  lofty  but  almost  unfurnished 
apartments  of  this  ancient  castle  that  Julian  Peveril 
found  his  friend  the  Earl  of  Derb>,  who  had  that  mo- 


200  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

ment  sate  down  to  a  breakfast  composed  of  various  sorts 
of  fish.  t{  Welcome,  most  imperial  Julian, "  he  said  ; 
"  welcome  to  our  royal  fortress  ;  in  which,  as  yet,  we 
are  not  like  to  be  starved  with  hunger,  though  well  nigh 
dead  for  cold." 

Julian  answered  by  inquiring  the  meaning  of  this  sud- 
den movement. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  replied  the  Earl,  "  you  know 
nearly  as  much  of  it  as  I  do.  My  mother  has  told  me 
nothing  about  it ;  supposing,  I  believe,  that  I  will  at 
length  be  tempted  to  inquire  ;  but  she  will  find  herself 
much  mistaken.  I  shall  give  her  credit  for  full  wisdom 
in  her  proceedings,  rather  than  put  her  to  the  trouble  to 
render  a  reason,  though  no  woman  can  render  one  better." 

"  Come,  come  ;  this  is  affectation,  my  good  friend," 
said  Julian.  "  You  should  inquire  into  these  matters  a 
little  more  curiously.'' 

"  To  what  purpose  ?"  said  the  Earl.  "  To  hear  old 
stories  about  the  Tynwald  laws,  and  the  contending 
rights  of  the  lords  and  the  clergy,  and  all  the  rest  of  that 
Celtic  barbarism,  which,  likeBurgesse's  thorough-paced 
doctrine,  emers  at  one  ear,  paces  through,  and  goes  out 
at  the  other  ?" 

"  Come,  my  lord,'5  said  Julian,  "  you  are  not  so  in- 
different as  you  would  represent  yourself — you  are  dy- 
ing of  curiosity  to  know  what  this  hurry  is  about ;  only 
you  think  it  the  courtly  humour  to  appear  careless  about 
your  own  aff  irs." 

"Why,  u  nat  should  it  be  about,"  said  the  young 
Earl.  "  unless  some  factious  dispute  between  our  Majes- 
ty's minister,  Governor  Now  el,  and  our  vassals  ?  or  per- 
haps some  dispute  betwixt  our  Majesty  and  the  ecclesias- 
tical jurisdictions  ?  for  all  which,  our  Majesty  cares  as 
little  as  any  king  in  Christendom." 

"  I  rather  suppose  there  is  intelligence  from  England," 
said  Julian.  "  1  heard  last  night  in  Peel-town,  that 
Greer.halgh  is  come  over  with  unpleasant  news." 

"  He  brought  me  nothing  that  was  pleasant,  I  wot 
well,"  said  the  Earl.     "  1  expected  something  from  St. 


rEYEr.lLt  OF    THE     TEAK.  201 

Evremond  or  Hamilton — some  new  plays  by  Dryden  or 
Lee  ;  and  some  waggery  or  lampoons  from  the  Rose 
Coffee-hotise  ;  and  the  fellow  i.as  brought  me  nothing 
but  a  parcel  of  tracts  about  Protestants  and  Papists,  and 
a  folio  play-book,  one  of  the  conceptions,  as  she  calls 
them,  of  that  old  madwoman,  the  Dutchess  of  New- 
castle. 

"  Hush,  my  lord,  for  Heaven's  sake,'1  said  Peveril  ; 
c;  here  comes  the  Countess  ;  and  you  know  she  takes  fire 
at  the  least  slight  to  her  ancient  friend.'' 

"  Let  her  read  her  ancient  friend's  works  herself  then," 
said  the  Earl,  *'  and  think  her  as  wise  as  she  can  :  but! 
woul  .1  not  give  one  of  Waller's  songs,  or  Den  man's  sa- 
tires, for  a  whole  cart-load  of  her  Grace's  trash. — But 
here  comes  our  mother,  with  care  on  her  brow." 

The  Countess  of  Derby  entered  the  apartment  accord- 
ingly, holding  in  her  hand  a  number  of  papers.  Her 
dress  was  a  mourning  habit,  with  a  deep  train  of  black 
veivet,  which  was  borne  by  a  little  favourite  attendant, 
a  deaf  and  dumb  girl,  whom,  in  compassion  to  her  mis- 
fortune, the  Countess  had  educated  about  her  person  for 
some  years.  Upon  this  unfortunate,  with  the  touch  of 
romance  which  marked  many  of  her  proceedings,  Lady 
Derby  had  conferred  the  name  of  Fenella,  after  some 
ancient  princess  of  the  island.  The  Countess  herself 
was  not  much  changed  since  we  last  presented  her  to 
our  readers.  Age  had  rendered  her  step  more  slow,  but 
not  less  majestic  ;  and  while  it  traced  some  wrinkles  on 
her  brow,  had  failed  to  quench  the  sedate  fire  of  her 
dark  eye.  The  young  men  rose  to  recehe  her  with  the 
formal  reverence  which  they  knew  she  loved,  and  were 
greeted  by  her  with  equal  kindness. 

"  Cousin  Peveril,"  she  said,  (for  so  she  always  called 
Juiian.  in  respect  of  his  mother  being  a  kinswoman  of 
her  husband,)  "  you  were  ill  abroad  last  night,  when 
we  much  needed  your  counsel." 

Julian  answered  with  a  blush  which  he  could  not  pre- 
vent, ''That  he  had  followed  his  sport  among  the  moun- 
tains too  far — had  returned  late — and  finding  her  lady- 
ship was  removed  from  Castletown,  had  instantly  follow- 


-202  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

ed  the  family  hither;  but  as  the  night-bell  was  rung, 
and  the  watch  set,  he  had  deemed  it  more  respectful  to 
lodge  for  the  night  in  the  town." 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  Countess;  "and  to  do  you  jus- 
tice, Julian,  you  are  seldom  a  truant  negleeter  of  ap- 
pointed hours,  though,  like  the  rest  of  the  youth  of  this 
age,  you  sometimes  suffer  your  sports" to  consume  too 
much  of  time  that  should  be  spent  otherwise.  But  for 
your  friend  Philip,  he  is  an  avowed  contemner  of  good 
order,  and  seems  to  find  pleasure  in  wasting  time,  even 
when  lie  does  not  enjoy  it," 

"  I  have  been  enjoying  my  time  just  now  at  least,'' 
said  the  Earl,  rising  from  table,  and  picking  his  teeth 
carelessly.  "  These  fresh  mullets  are  delicious,  and  so  is 
the  Lachrymal  Christi.  I  pray  you  to  sit  down  to 
breakfast,  Julian,  and  partake  the  goods  my  royal  fore- 
sight has  provided.  Never  was  King  of  Man  nearer 
being  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  execrable  brandy  of  his 
dominions.  Old  Griffith  would  never,  in  the  midst  of 
our  speedy  retreat  last  night,  have  had  sense  enough  to 
secure  a  few  flasks,  had  I  not  given  him  a  hint  on  that 
important  subject.  But  presence  of  mind,  amid  danger 
and  tumult,   is  a  jewel  I  have  always  possessed." 

"  I  wish,  then,  Philip,  you  would  exert  it  to  better  pur- 
pose," said  the  Countess,  half  smiling,  half  displeased  ; 
for  she  doated  upon  her  son  with  all  a  mother's  fondness, 
even  when  she  was  most  angry  with  him  for  being  defi- 
cient in  the  peculiar  and  chivalrous  disposition  which 
had  distinguished  his  father,  and  which  was  so  analogous 
to  her  own  romantic  and  high-minded  character.  "Lend 
me  your  signet,"  she  added  with  a  sigh  ;  "  for  it  were, 
I  fear,  vain  to  ask  you  to  read  over  these  dispatches 
from  England,  and  execute  the  warrants  which  I  have 
thought  necessary  to  prepare  in  consequence." 

"My  signet  you  shall  command  with  all  my  heart, 
madam,"  said  Earl  Philip  ;  "  but  spare  me  the  revision  of 
what  you  are  much  more  capable  to  decide  upon.  I  am, 
you  know,  a  most  complete Moifaineant,  and  »ev*r  once 
interfered  with  my  Moire  c!e  yalais  in  her  proceedings." 

The  Countess  made  signs  to  her  little  train-bearer,  who 


1'EVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  203 


immediate! v  went  to   seek  wax  and  a  light,  with  which 
she  presently  returned. 

In  the  mean- while,  the  Countess  continued  addressing 
Peveril.  "  Philip  does  himself  less  than  justice.  When 
you  were  absent,  Julian,  (for  if  you  had  been  here  I 
would  have  given  you  the  credit  of  prompting:  your 
friend,)  he  had  a  spirited  controversy  with  the  Bishop, 
for  an  attempt  to  enforce  spiritual  censures  against  a 
poor  wretch,  by  confining  her  in  the  vault  under  the 
chapel." 

"  Do  not  think  better  of  me  than  I  deserve,"  said  the 
Earl  to  Peveril ;  "  my  mother  has  omitted  to  tell  you  the 
culprit  was  pretty  Peggy  of  Ramsay,  and  her  crime 
what  in  Cupid -s  courts  would  have  been  called  a  pecca- 
dillo." 

"  o  not  you  make  yourself  worse  than  you  are,"  re- 
plied Peveril,  who  observed  the  Countess's  cheek  red- 
den,— "  you  know  you  would  have  done  as  much  for  the 
oldest  and  poorest  cripple  in  the  island.  Why,  the  vault 
is  under  the  burial  ground  of  the  chapel,  and  for  ought 
I  know,  under  the  ocean  itself,  such  a  roaring  do  the 
waves  make  in  its  vicinity.  I  think  no  one  could  remain 
there  long,  and  retain  his  ivason." 

"  It  is  an  infernal  hole,"  answered  the  Earl,  "  and  1 
will  have  it  built  up  one  day — that  is  full  certain. — But 
hold — hold — for  God's  sake,  madam — what  are  you  go- 
inir  to  do? — Lotfk  at  the  seal  before  you  put  it  to  the 
warrant — you  will  see  it  is  a  choice  antique  cameo  Cu- 
pid, riding  on  a  flying  fish — I  had  it  for  twenty  zecchins, 
from  Signor  Furabosco  at  Rome — a  most  curious  mat- 
ter for  an  antiquary,  but  which  will  add  little  faith  to  a 
Manx  warrant." 

"  Flow  can  you  trifle  thus,  you  simple  boy  ?"  said  the 
Countess,  with  vexation  in  her  tone  and  look.  "  Let  me 
have  your  signet,  or  rather,  take  these  warrants,  and 
sign  them  yourself." 

"  My  signet— my  signet — Oh!  you  mean  thai  with 
the  three  monstrous  legs,  which  1  suppose  wasdevss0  las 
the  most  preposterous  device  to  represent  our  most  ab- 
surd Majesty  of  Man. — The  signet — I  have  not  seen  it 


# 


204  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK. 

since  I  gave  it  to  Gibbon,  my  monkey,  to  play  with. — 
He  did  whine  Tor  it  most  piteously — 1  hope  he  has  not 
gemed  the  green  breast  of  ocean  with  my  symbol  of 
sovereignty.'' 

"  Now,  by  Heaven, "  said  the  Countess,  trembling,  and 
colouring  deeply  with  anger,  "  it  was  your  father's  signet ! 
the  last  pledge  which  he  sent,  with  his  love  to  me,  and 
his  blessing  to  thee,  the  night  before  they  murdered  him 
at  Bolton  !" 

"  Mother,  dearest  mother,"  said  the  Earl,  startled  out 
of  his  apathy,  and  taking  her  hand,  which  he  kissed 
tenderly,  "  I  did  but  jest — the  signet  is  safe — Peveril 
knows  that  it  is  so. — Go  fetch  it,  Julian,  for  Heaven's 
sake —  here  are  my  keys—it  is  in  the  left  hand  drawer 
of  my  travelling  cabinet.— Nay,  mother,  forgive  me — 
it  was  but  a  mauvaise  plaisanterie  ;  only  an  ill  imagined 
jest,  ungracious,  and  in  bad  taste,  I  allow — but  only  one 
of  Philip-*  follies.  Look  at  me,  dearest  mother,  and  for- 
give me."  I 

The  Countess  turned  her  eyes  towards  him,  from 
which  the  tears  were  fast  falling. 

"Philip,"  she  said,  "you  try  me  too  unkindly,  and 
too  severely.  If  times  are  changed,  as  I  have  heard  you 
allege — if  the  dignity  of  rank,  and  the  high  feelings  of 
honour  and  duty,  are  now  drowned  in  giddy  jests  and 
trifling  pursuits,  let  me  at  least,  who  live  secluded  from 
all  others,  die  without  perceiving  the  change  which  has 
happened,  and,  above  all,  without  perceiving  it  in  mine 
own  son.  Let  me  not  learn  the  general  prevalence  of 
this  levity,  which  laughs  at  every  sense  of  dignity  or 
duty,  through  your  personal  disrespect — Let  me  not 
think  that  when  1  die " 

"  Speak  nothing  of  it,  mother,"  said  the  Earl,  inter- 
rupting her  affectionately*  "  It  is  true,  1  cannot  pro- 
mise to  he  all  my  father  and  his  lathers  were  ;  for  we 
wear  silk  vests  for  their  steel  coats,  and  feathered  bea- 
-  for  their  crested  helmets.  But  believe  me,  though 
to  be  an  absol  ite  Palmerin  of  England  is  not  in  my  na ': 
lure,  no  son  ever  loved  a  mother  more  dearly,  or  would 
do  more  to  oblige  her.     And  that  you  may  own  this,  I 


PEV&RIfc    OF    THE    PEAK.  2"0o 

wiii  forthwith  not  only  seal  the  warrants  to  the  great  eft- 
dangerment  of  my  precious  fingers,  but  also  read  the 
same  from  end  to  end,  as  well  as  the  despatches  there- 
unto appertaining." 

A  mother  is  easily  appeased,  even  when  most  offend- 
ed ;  and  it  was  with  an  expanding  heart  that  the 
Countess  saw  her  son's  very  handsome  features,  while 
reading  these  papers,  settle  into  an  expression  of  deep 
seriousness,  such  as  they  seldom  wore.  It  seemed  to 
her  as  if  the  family  likeness  to  his  gallant  but  unfortun- 
ate father  increased,  when  the  expression  of  their  counte- 
nances became  similar  in  gravity.  The  Earl  had  no 
sooner  perused  the  despatches,  which  he  did  with  great 
attention,  than  he  rose  and  said,  ;' Julian,  come  with 
me." 

The  Countess  looked  surprised,  "  I  was  wont  to  share 
your  father's  counsels,  my  son,"  she  said  ;  "  but  do  not 
think  that  I  wish  to  intrude  myself  upon  yours.  I  am 
too  well  pleased  to  see  you  assume  the  power  and  the 
duty  of  thinking  for  yourself,  which  is  what  I  have  so 
long  urged  you  to  do.  Nevertheless,  my  experience, 
who  have  been  so  long  administrator  of  your  authority 
in  Man,  might  not,  I  think,  be  superfluous  to  the  matter 
in  hand." 

"  Hold  me  excused,  dearest  mother,"  said  the  Earl, 
gravely.  "  The  interference  was  none  of  my  seeking  ; 
had  you  taken  your  own  course,  without  consulting  me. 
it  had  been  well ;  but  since  I  have  entered  on  the  affair 
— and  it  appears  sufficiently  important — 1  must  transact 
it  to  the  best  of  my  own  ability." 

"  Go  then,  my  son"  said  the  Countess,  '*  and  may 
Heaven  enlighten  thee  with  its  counsel,  since  thou  wilt 
ha,ve  none  of  mine.  I  trust  that  you,  Master  Peveril, 
will  remind  him  of  what  is  fit  for  his  own  honour  ;  and 
that  only  a  coward  abandons  his  rights,  and  only  a  fool 
trusts  his  enemies." 

The  Earl  answered  not,  but,  taking  Peveril  by  the  arm, 
led  him  up  a  winding  stair  to  his  own  apartment,  and 
from  thence  into  a  projecting  turret,  where,  amidst  the 
vol*  i.  18 


lOS  PEVERIL    Otf    THE    PEAK, 

roar   of  waves  and  seamews'  clang,  he  held  with  h 
•  he  following  conversation  : 

"  Peveril,  it  is  well  1  looked  into  these  warrants. 
My  mother  queens  it  at  such  a  rate  as  may  cost  me  not 
only  my  crown,  which  I  care  little  for,  but  perhaps  my 
head,  which,  though  others  may  think  little  of,  I  would 
feel  it  an  inconvenience  to  be  deprived  of." 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  ?"  said  Peveril,  with 
considerable  anxiety. 

r  Vi"  It  seems,"  said  the  Earl  of  Derby,  "  that  Old  Eng- 
land, who  takes  a  frolicsome  brain-fever  once  every  two 
or  three  years,  for  the  benefit  of  her  doctors,  and  the 
purification  of  the  torpid  lethargy  brought  on  by  peace 
and  prosperity,  is  now  gone  stark  staring  mad  on  the 
subject  of  a  real  or  supposed  Popish  Plot.  I  read  one 
program  on  the  subject,  by  a  fellow  called  Oates,  and 
thought  it  the  most  absurd  foolery  I  ever  perused.  But 
that  cunning  fellow  Shaftesbury,  and  some  others 
amongst  the  great  ones,  have  taken  it  up,  and  are  driv- 
ing on  at  such  a  rate  as  makes  harness  crack,  and  horses 
smoke  for  it.  The  King,  who  has  sworn  never  to  kiss 
the  pillow  his  father  went  to  sleep  on,  temporizes  and 
gives  way  to  the  current;  the  Duke  of  York,  suspected 
and  hated  on  account  of  his  religion,  is  about  to  be 
driven  to  the  continent;  several  principal  Catholic  no- 
bles are  in  the  Tower  already  ;  and  the  nation,  like  a 
bull  at  Tmbury- running,  is  persecuted  with  so  many 
inflammatory  rumours  and  pestilent  pamphlets,  that  she 
has  cocked  her  tail,  flung  up  her  heels,  taken  the  bit 
betwixt  her  teeth,  and  is  as  furiously  unmanageable  as 
in  the  year  1642." 

"  All  this  you  must  have  known  already,"  said  Pe- 
veril ;  "  1  wonder  you  told  me  not  of  news  so  import- 
ant." 

u  It  woukl  have  taken  long  to  tell, ".said  the  Earl: 
"  moreover  I  desired  to  have  you  solus  ;  thirdly,  I  was 
about  to  speak  when  my  mother  entered ;  and  to  con- 
clude, it  was  no  business  of  mine.  But  these  despatches 
of  my  politic  mother's  private  correspondent  put  a  new 


PEVERIL    OF   THE    PEAK.  207 

face  on  the  whole  matter ;  for  it  seems  some  of  the  in- 
formers— a  trade  which,  having  become  a  thriving  one, 
is  now  pursued  by  many — have  dared  to  glance  at  'the 
Countess  herself  as  an  agent  in  this  same  plot — ay,  and 
have  found  those  that  are  willing  enough  to  believe  their 
report." 

"  On  mine  honour,"  said  Peveril,  "  you  both  take  it 
tvith  great  coolness.  I  think  the  Countess  the  most  com- 
posed of  the  two  ;  for,  except  her  movement  hither,  she 
exhibited  no  mark  of  alarm,  and  moreover,  seemed  no 
way  more  anxious  to  communicate  the  matter  to  youi 
lordship  than  decency  rendered  necessary." 

"  My  good  mother,"  said  the  Earl,  "  loves  power, 
though  it  has  cost  her  dear.  I  wish  I  could  truly  say 
that  my  neglect  of  business  is  entirely  assumed  in  order 
to  leave  it  in  her  hands,  but  that  better  motive  combines 
with  natural  indolence.  But  she  seems  to  have  feared 
I  should  not  think  exactly  like  her  in  this  emergency, 
and  she  was  right  in  supposing  so." 

"  How  comes  the  emergency  upon  you  ?"  said 
Julian;  M  and  what  form  does  the  danger  assume  ?" 

"  Marry,  thus  it  is,"  said  the  Earl :  "  I  need  not  bid 
you  remember  the  affair  of  Colonel  Christian.  That 
man,  besides  his  widow,  who  is  possessed  of  large 
property — Dame  Christian  of  Kirk-Traugh,  whom  you 
have  often  heard  of,  and  perhaps  seen — -left  a  brother 
called  Edward  Christian,  whom  you  never  saw  at  all, 
Now  this  brother — but  I  dare  say  you  know  all  about 
it." 

"  Not  I,  on  my  honour,"  said  Peveril  5  "  you  know 
\he  Countess  seldom  or  never  alludes  to  the  subject." 

"  Why,"  replied  the  Count,  "  I  believe  in  her  heart 
she  is  something  ashamed  of  that  gallant  act  of  royalty 
and  supreme  jurisdiction,  the  consequences  of  which 
maimed  my  estate  so  cruelly. — Well,  cousin,  this  same 
Edward  Christian  was  one  of  the  deemsters  at  the  time, 
and  naturally  enough,  was  unwilling  to  concur  in  the 
sentence  which  ajudged  his  ainee  to  be  shot  like  a  dog. 
My  mother,  who  was  then  in  high  force,  and  not  to  be 
'rolled  by  any  one,  would  have  served  the  deemster 


208  peveril  of  the  pea  a 

with  the  same  sauce  with  which  she  dressed  his  brou 
had  he  not  been  wise  enough  to  fly  from  the  Island, 
Since  that  time,  the  thing  has  slept  on  all  hands ;  and 
though  we  knew  that  Deemster  Christian  made  occa- 
sionally secret  visits  to  his  friends  in  the  island,  along 
with  two  or  three  other  Puritans  of  the  same  stamp,  and 
particularly  a  prickeared  rogue,  called  Bridgenorth,  yet 
my  mother,  thank  Heaven,  has  hitherto  had  the  sense 
to  connive  at  them,  though,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
she  holds  this  Bridgenorth  in  especial  disfavour/1 

"  And  why/'  said  Peveril,  forcing  himself  to  speak, 
in  order  to  conceal  the  very  unpleasant  surprise  which 
he  felt,  u  why  does  the  Countess  now  depart  from  so 
prudent  a  line  of  conduct?" 

"  You  must  know  the  case  is  now  different*  The 
rogues  are  not  satisfed  with  toleration— they  would 
have  supremacy.  They  have  found  friends  in  the  pre- 
sent heat  of  the  popular  mind.  My  mother's  name,  and 
especially  that  of  her  confessor,  Aldrick  the  Jesuit,  hat 
been  mentioned  in  this  beautiful  maze  of  a  plot,  which, 
if  any  such  at  all  exists,  she  knows  as  little  of  as  you  or 
I.  However,  she  is  a  Catholic,  and  that  is  enough; 
and  I  have  little  doubt,  that  if  the  fellows  could  seize  or: 
our  scrap  of  a  kingdom  here,  and  cut  all  our  throats, 
they  would  have  the  thanks  of  the  present  House  o* 
Commons,  as  willingly  as  old  Christian  had  those  of  the 
Rump,  for  a  similar  service." 

'5  From  whence  did  you  receive  all  this  information  ?** 
said  Peveril,  again  speaking,  though  by  the  same  efforj 
which  a  man  makes  who  talks  in  his  sleep. 

"  Aldrick  has  seen  the  Duke  of  York  in  secret,  and  hib> 
Royal  Highness,  who  wept  while  he  confessed  his  wan  I 
of  power  to  protect  his  friends— and  it  is  no  trifle  will 
wring  tears  from  him— told  him  to  send  us  information 
that  we  should  look  to  our  safety,  for  that  Deemster  Chris- 
tian and  Bridgenorth  were  in  the  island,  with  secret  and 
severe  orders ;  that  they  had  formed  a  considerable  part} 
there,  and  were  like  to  be  owned  and  protected  in  any 
thing  they  might  undertake  against  us.  The  people  of 
Ramsay   and   Castletown   are   unluckily   discontented. 


2EVEB1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  2QS 

about  some  new  regulations  of  the  impost;  and,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  though  i  thought  yesterday's  sudden  re- 
move a  whim  of  my  mother's,  I  am  almost  satisfied  they 
would  have  blockaded  us  in  Rushin  Castle,  where  we 
could  not  have  held  out  for  lack  of  provisions.  Here 
we  are  better  supplied,  and,  as  we  are  on  our  guard,  it  is 
likely  the  intended  rising  will  not  take  place." 

"  And  what  is  to  be  done  in  this  emergency  ?'•  said 
Peveril. 

"  That  is  the  very  question,  my  gentle  coz,"  answered 
the  Earl.  "  My  mother  sees  but  one  way  of  going  to 
work,  and  that  is  by  royal  authority.  Here  are  the  war- 
rants she  had  prepared,  to  search  for,  take,  and  appre- 
hend the  bodies  of  Edward  Christian  and  Robert — no. 
Ralph  Bridgenorth,  and  bring  them  to  instant  trial.  No 
doubt,  she  would  soon  have  had  them  in  the  Castle  court. 
with  a  dozen  of  the  old  matchlocks  levelled  against  thera 
— that  is  her  way  of  solving  all  sudden  difficulties." 

"  But  in  which,  I  trust,  you  do  not  acquiesce,  my  lord,'* 
answered  Peveril,  whose  thoughts  instantly  reverted  to 
Alice,  if  they  could  ever  be  said  to  be  absent  from  her. 

"  Truly,  I  acquiesce ifl  no  such  matter,"  said  the  Earl. 
;'  William  Christian  "s  death  cost  me  a  fair  half  of  my  in- 
heritance. I  have  no  fancy  to  fall  under  the  displeasure 
of  my  royal  brother,  King  Charles,  for  a  new  escapade 
of  the  same  kind.  Bot  how  to  pacify  my  mother,  I 
know  not.  I  would  the  insurrection  would  take  place, 
and  then,  as  we  are  better  provided  than  they  can  be,  we 
might  knock  the  knaves  on  the  head  ;  and  yet,  since  they 
began  the  fray,  we  should  keep  the  law  on  our  side." 

'•  Were  it  not  better,"  said  Peveril,  "if  by  any  means 
these  men  could  be  induced  to  quit  the  island  ?" 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  Earl  ;  "  but  that  will  be  no 
easy  matter — they  are  stubborn  on  principle,  and  empty 
threats  will  not  move  them.  This  stormblast  in  London 
is  wind  in  their  sails,  and  they  will  run  their  length,  you 
may  depend  on  it.  1  have  sent  orders,  however,  to  clap 
up  the  Manx- men  upon  whose  assistance  they  depended, 
and  if  I  can  find  the  two  worthies  themselves,  here  are 
sloops  enough  in  the  harbour — I  will  take  the  freedom 

18* 


1 


210  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

to  send  them  on  a  pretty  distant  voyage,  and  1  hope  mat- 
ters will  be  settled  before  they  return  to  give  an  account 
of  it.*' 

At  this  moment  a  soldier  belonging  to  the  garrison 
approached  the  two  young  men,  with  many  bows  and 
tokens  of  respect.  "  How  now,  friend  ?"  said  the  Earl 
to  him    "  Leave  off  thy  courtesies,  and  tell  thy  business.*" 

The  man,  who  was  a  native  islander,  answered  in  Manx, 
that  he  had  a  letter  for  his  honour.  Master  Julian  Peve- 
ril.  Julian  snatched  the  billet  hastily,  and  asked  whence 
it  came. 

"  It  was  delivered  to  him  by  a  young  woman,"  the 
soldier  replied,  "  who  had  given  him  a  piece  of  money 
to  deliver  it  into  Master  PeveriPs  own  hand." 

"  Thou  art  a  lucky  fellow,  Julian."  said  the  Earl. 
"  With  that  grave  brow  of  thine,  and  thy  character  for 
sobriety  and  early  wisdom,  you  set  the  girls  a  wooing, 
without  waiting  till  they  are  asked  ;  whilst  I,  their  drudge 
and  vassal,  waste  both  language  and  leisure,  without  get- 
ting a  kind  word  or  look,  far  less  a  billet-doux." 

This  the  young  Earl  said  with  a  smile  of  conscious 
triumph,  as  in  fact  he  valued  himself  not  a  little  upon  the 
interest  which  he  supposed  himself  to  possess  in  the  fail? 
sex. 

Mean-while  the  letter  impressed  on  Peveril  a  different 
train  of  thoughts  from  what  his  companion  apprehended* 
it  was  in  Alice's  hand,  and  contained  these  few  words : — 

"I  fear  what  I  am  going  to  do  is  wrong  ;  but  I  must 
see  you.  Meet  me  at  noon  at  Goddard  Crovan's  Stone 
with  as  much  secrecy  as  you  may.'' 

The  letter  was  signed  only  with  the  initials  A.  B.  : 
but  Julian  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  hand-writ- 
ing, which  he  had  often  seen,  and  which  was  remarkably 
beautiful.  He  stood  suspended,  for  he  saw  the  difficulty 
and  impropriety  of  withdrawing  himself  from  the  Count- 
ess and  his  friend  at  this  moment  of  impending  danger  : 
and  yet,  to  neglect  this  invitation  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.     He  paused  in  the  utmost  perplexity. 

"  Shall  I  read  your  riddle  ?"  said  the  Earl.  "  Go 
where  love  calls  vou — I  will  make  an  excuse  to  mv  mo- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  211 

iher — only,  most  grave  anchorite,  be  hereafter  more  in- 
dulgent to  the  feelings  of  others  than  3011  have  been  hi- 
therto, and  blaspheme  not  the  power  of  the  little  deity.r 

"  Nay,   but  Cousin  Derby "  said   Peveril,    and 

lopped  short,  for  he  really  knew  not  what  to  say.  Se~ 
ged  himself  by  a  virtuous  passion  from  the  contagious 
influence  of  the  time,  he  had  seen  with  regret  his  noble 
kinsman  mingle  more  in  its  irregularities  than  he  approv- 
ed of,  and  had  sometimes  played  the  part  of  a  monitor. 
Circumstances  seemed  at  present  to  give  the  Earl  a  right 
of  retaliation.  He  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  his  friend,  as  it 
lie  waited  till  he  should  complete  his  sentence,  at  length 
exclaimed,  "  What,  cousin,  quite  a-la-mort !  O,  most 
judicious  Julian  !  O,  most  precise  Peveril  !  have  you  be- 
stowed so  much  wisdom  on  me  that  you  have  none  left 
for  yourself?  Come,  be  frank — tell  me  name  and  place — 
or  say  but  the  colour  of  the  eyes  of  the  most  emphatic 
she — or  do  but  let  me  have  the  pleasure  to  let  me  hear 
thee  say,  '  I  love  !' — confess  one  touch  of  human  frailty 
— conjugate  the  verb  amo,  and  I  will  be  a  gentle  school- 
master, and  you  shall  have,  as  father  Richards  used  to 
say,  when  we  were  under  his  ferule,   '  licentia  exeundi.' :? 

"  Enjoy  your  pleasant  humour  at  my  expense,  my 
lord,''  said  Peveril;  "  I  fairly  will  confess  thus  much, 
that  I  would  fain,  if  it  consisted  with  my  honour  and 
your  safety,  have  two  hours  at  my  own  disposal  ;  the 
more  especially  as  the  manner  in  which  I  shall  employ 
them  may  much  concern  the  safety  of  the  island." 

"  Very  likely,  I  dare  say,'5  answered  the  Earl,  still 
laughing.  "  No  doubt  you  are  summoned  out  by  some 
Lady  Politic  Woudbe  of  the  isle,  to  talk  over  some  of 
the  breast-laws  ;  but  never  mind — go,  and  go  speedily, 
that  you  may  return  as  quick  as  possible.  I  expect  no 
immediate  explosion  of  this  grand  conspiracy.  When 
the  rogues  see  us  on  our  guard,  they  will  be  cautious  how 
they  break  out.     Only,  once  more,  make  haste." 

Peveril  thought  this  last  advice  was  not  to  be  neglect- 
ed ;  and  glad  to  extricate  himself  from  the  raillery  of 
his  cousin,  walked  down  towards  the  gate  of  the  Castle, 
meaning  to  cross  over  to  the  village,  and  there  take 
horse  at  the  Earl's  stables,  for  the  place  of  rendezvous, 


512  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK, 


CHAPTER  XVI, 


Jcaslo.     Can  she  not  speak  ? 

Osteoid.     If  speech  be  only  in  accented  sound's; 
Framed  by  the  tongue  and  lips,  the  maiden's  dumb 
But  if  by  quick  and  apprehensive  look, 
By  motion,  sign,  and  glance,  to  give  each  meaning. 
Express  as  clothed  in  language  be  termed  speech, 
She  hath  that,  wondrous  faculty  ;  for  her  eyes, 
fake  the  bright  stars  of  heaven,  can  hold  discourse. 
Though  it  be  mute  and  soundless. 

Old  Play 


At  the  head  of  the  first  flight  of  steps  which  descend- 
ed towards  the  difficult  and  well  defended  entrance  Of 
the  Castle  of  Holm-Peel,  Peveril  was  met  and  stopped 
by  the  Countess's  train  bearer.  This  little  creature,  for 
she  was  of  the  least  and  slightest  size  of  womankind, 
was  exquisitely  well  formed  in  all  her  limbs,  which  the 
dress  she  usually  wore,  (a  green  silk  tunic,  of  a  peculiar 
form)  set  off  to  the  best  advantage.  Her  face  was 
darker  than  the  usual  hue  of  Europeans;  and  the  pro- 
fusion of  long  and  silken  hair,  which,  when  she  undid 
the  braids  in  which  she  commonly  wore  it,  fell  down 
almost  to  her  ancles,  was  also  rather  a  foreign  attribute. 
Her  countenance  resembled  a  most  beautiful  miniature: 
and  there  was  a  quickness,  decision,  and  fire,  in  Fenel- 
la's  look,  and  especially  in  her  eyes,  which  was  proba- 
biv  rendered  yet  more  alert  and  acute,,  because,  through 
the  imperfection  of  her  other  organs,  it  was  only  by 
sight  that  she  could  obtain  information  of  what  passed 
around  her. 

The  pretty  mute  was  mistress  of  many  little  accom- 
plishments which  the. Countess  had  caused  to  be  taught 


PEVERIL    OP   THE    PEAK.  213 

to  her  in  compassion  for  her  forlorn  situation,  and  which 
she  learned  with  the  most  surprising  quickness.  Thus, 
for  example,  she  was  exquisite  in  the  use  of  the  needle, 
and  so  ready  and  ingenious  a  draughtswoman,  that, 
like  the  ancient  Mexicans,  she  sometimes  made  a  hasty 
sketch  with  her  pencil  the  means  of  conveying  her 
ideas,  either  by  direct  or  emblematical  representation. 
Above  all,  in  the  art  of  ornamental  writing,  much  studi- 
ed at  that  period,  Fenella  was  so  great  a  proficient,  as 
to  rival  the  fame  of  Messrs.  Snow,  Shelly,  and  other 
masters  of  the  pen,  whose  copybooks,  preserved  in  the 
libraries  of  the  curious,  still  show  the  artists  smiling  on 
the  frontispiece  in  all  the  honours  of  flowing  gowns  and 
full  bottomed  wigs,  to  the  eternal  glory  of  caligraphy. 

The  little  maiden  had.  besides  these  accomplishments, 
much  ready  wit  and  acuteness  of  intellect.  With  Lady 
Derby,  and  with  the  two  young  gentlemen,  she  was  a 
great  favourite,  and  used  much  freedom  in  conversing 
with  them,  by  means  of  a  system  of  signs  which  had  been 
gradually  established  amongst  them,  and  which  served 
all  ordinary  purposes  of  communication. 

But,  though  happy  in  the  indulgence!  and  favour  of 
her  mistress,  from  whom  indeed  she  u  as  seldom  separate. 
Fenella  was  by  no  means  a  favourite  with  the  rest  of 
the  household.  In  fact,  it  seemed  that  her  temper,  ex- 
asperated perhaps  by  a  sense  of  her  misfortune,  was  by 
no  means  equal  to  her  abilities.  She  was  very  haughty 
in  her  demeanour,  even  towards  the  upper  domestics, 
who  in  that  establishment  were  of  a  much  higher  rank 
and  better  birth  than  in  the  families  of  the  nobility  in 
general.  These  often  complained,  not  only  of  her  pride 
and  reserve,  but  of  her  high  and  irascible  temper  and 
vindictive  disposition.  Her  passionate  propensity  had 
been  indeed  idly  encouraged  by  the  young  men,  and 
particularly  by  the  Earl,  who  sometimes  amused  himsell 
with  teazing  her,  that  he  might  enjoy  the  various  sin- 
gular motions  and  murmurs  by  which  she  expressed  her 
resentment.  Towards  him,  these  were  of  course  only 
petulant  and  whimsical  indications  of  pettish  anger. 
But  when  she  was  angry  with  others  of  inferior  degree 


214  PEVERIL   Or    THE    PEAK. 

—before  whom  she  did  not  control  herself — the  expres 
sion  of  her  passion,  unable  to  display  itself  in  language, 
had  something  even  frightful,  so  singular  were  the  tones, 
contortions,  and  gestures,  to  which  she  had  recourse. 
The  lower  domestics,  to  whom  she  was  liberal  almost 
beyond  her  apparent  means,  observed  her  with  much 
deference  anl  respect,  but  much  more  from  fear  than 
from  any  real  attachment ;  for  the  caprices  of  her  tem- 
per displayed  themselves  even  in  her  gifts;  and  those 
who  most  frequently  shared  her  bounty,  seemed  by  no 
means  assured  of  the  benevolence  of  the  motives  which 
dictated  her  liberality. 

All  these  peculiarities  led  to  a  conclusion  consonant 
with  Manx  superstition.  Devout  believers  in  all  the  le- 
gends of  fairies  so  dear  to  the  Celtic  tribes,  that  Manx 
people  held  it  for  certainty  that  the  elves  were  in  the  ha- 
bit of  carrying  off  mortal  children  before  baptism,  and 
leaving  in  the  cradle  of  the  new  born  babe  one  of  their 
own  brood,  which  was  almost  always  imperfect  in  some 
one  or  other  of  the  organs  proper  to  humanity.  Such 
a  being  they  conceived  Fenella  to  be  ;  and  the  smallness 
of  her  size,  her  dark  complexion,  her  long  locks  of  silken 
hair,  the  singularity  of  her  manners  and  tones,  as  well 
as  the  caprices  of  her  temper,  were  to  their  thinking  all 
attributes  of  the  irritable,  fickle,  and  dangerous  race 
from  which  they  supposed  her  to  be  sprung.  And  it 
Seemed,  that  although  no  jest  appeared  to  offend  her 
more  than  when  Lord  Derby  called  her  in  sport  the  Elfin 
Queen,  or  otherwise  alluded  to  her  supposed  connexion 
with  "  the  pigmy  folk,"  yet  still  her  perpetually  affect- 
ing to  wear  the  colour  of  green,  proper  to  the  fairies, 
as  well  as  some  other  peculiarities,  seemed  voluntarily 
assumed  by  her,  in  order  to  countenance  the  superstition,, 
perhaps  because  it  gave  her  more  authority  among  the 
lower  orders. 

Many  were  the  tales  circulated  respecting  the  Coun- 
tess's Elf,  as  Fenella  was  currently  called  in  the  island  ; 
and  the  malcontents  of  the  stricter  persuasion  were  con- 
vinced, that  no  one  but  a  Papist,  and  a  malignant, 
would  have  kept  near  her  person  a  creature  of  such 


I 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  1\o 

doubtful  origin.  They  conceived  that  Fenella's  deaf- 
ness and  dumbness  were  only  towards  those  of  this 
world,  and  that  she  had  been  heard  talking,  and  sing- 
ing, and  laughing,  most  elvishly,  with  the  invisibles  of 
her  own  race.  They  alleged,  also,  that  she  had  a  Double, 
a  sort  of  apparition  resembling  her,  which  slept  in  the 
Countess's  anti-room,  or  bore  her  train,  or  wrought  in 
her  cabinet,  while  the  real  Fenella  joined  the  song  of 
the  mermaids  on  the  moonlight  sands,  or  the  dance  of 
the  fairies  in  the  haunted  valley  of  Glenmoy,  or  on  the 
heights  of  Snawfell  and  Barool.  The  centinels,  too. 
would  have  sworn  they  had  seen  the  little  maiden  trip 
past  them  in  their  solitary  night  walks,  without  their 
having  it  in  their  power  to  challenge  her,  any  more  than 
if  they  had  been  as  mute  as  herself.  To  all  this  mass  of 
absurdities  the  better  informed  paid  no  more  attention 
than  to  the  usual  idle  exaggerations  of  the  vulgar,  which 
so  frequently  connect  that  which  is  unusual  with  what  is 
supernatural. 

Such,  in  form  and  habits,  was  the  little  female,  who, 
holding  in  her  hand  a  small  old  fashioned  ebony  rod, 
which  might  have  passed  for  a  divining  wand,  confront- 
ed Julian  on  the  top  of  the  flight  of  steps  which  led 
down  the  rock  from  the  Castle  court.  We  ought  to  ob- 
serve, that  as  Julian's  manner  to  the  unfortunate  girl 
had  been  always  gentle,  and  free  from  :hose  teazing 
jests  in  which  his  gay  friend  indulged,  with  less  regard 
to  the  peculiarity  of  her  situation  and  feelings  ;  so  Fe- 
nella, on  her  part,  had  usually  shown  much  greater  de- 
ference to  him  than  to  any  of  the  household,  her  mis- 
tress, the  Countess,  always  excepted. 

On  the  present  occasion,  planting  herself  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  narrow  descent,  so  as  to  make  it  impossible 
for  Peveril  to  pass  by  her,  she  proceeded  to  put  him  to 
the  question  of  a  series  of  gestures,  which  we  will  endea- 
vour to  describe.  She  commenced  by  extending  her 
hand  slightly!  accompanied  with  the  sharp  inquisitive 
look  which  served  her  as  a  note  of  interrogation.  This 
was  meant  as  an  inquiry  if  he  was  going  to  a  distance, 
Julian,  in  reply,  extended  his  arm  more  than  half,  to  in- 


216  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

iimatethat  the  distance  was  considerable.  Fenella  look- 
ed  grave,  shook  her  head,  and  pointed  to  the  Countess's 
window,  which  was  visible  from  the  spot  where  they 
stood.  Peveril  smiled,  and  nodded,  to  intimate  there 
was  no  danger  in  quitting  her  mistress  for  a  short  space. 
The  little  maiden  next  touched  an  eagle's  feather  which 
she  wore  in  her  hair,  a  sign  which  she  usually  employed 
to  designate  the  Earl,  and  then  looked  inquisitively  at 
Julian  once  more,  as  if  to  say,  "Goes  he  with  you?" 
Peveril  shook  his  head,  and,  somewhat  wearied  by  these 
mterrogatories,  smiled,  and  made  an  effort  to  pass.  'Fe- 
nella frowned,  struck  the  end  of  her  ebony  rod  perpen- 
dicularly on  the  ground,  and  again  shook  her  head,  as  if 
opposing  his  departure.  But  finding  that  Julian  per- 
severed in  his  purpose,  she  suddenly  assumed  another 
and  a  milder  mood,  held  him  by  the  skirt  of  his  cloak 
with  one  hand,  and  raised  the  other  in  an  imploring  at- 
titude, whilst  ever}7  feature  of  her  lively  countenance  was 
composed  into  the  like  expression  of  supplication  ;  and 
the  fire  of  the  large  dark  eyes,  which  seemed  in  general 
so  keen  and  piercing  as  almost  to  over-animate  the  little 
sphere  to  which  they  belonged,  seemed  quenched,  for  the 
moment,  in  the  large  drops  which  hung  on  her  long  eye- 
lashes, but  without  (ailing. 

Julian  Peveril  was  far  from  being  void  of  sympathy 
towards  the  poor  girl,  whose  motives  in  opposing  his 
departure  seemed  to  be  her  affectionate  apprehension  for 
her  mistress's  safety.  He  endeavoured  to  reassure  her 
by  smiles,  and  at  the  same  time,  by  such  signs  as  he 
could  devise,  to  intimate  that  there  was  no  danger,  and 
that  he  would  return  presently ;  and  having  succeeded 
in  extricating  his  cloak  from  her  grasp,  and  in  passing 
her  on  the  stair,  he  began  to  descend  the  steps  as  speedi- 
ly      ne  could,  in  order  to  avoid  further  importunity. 

But  with  activity  much  greater  than  his,  the  dumb 
maiden  hastened  to  intercept  him,  and  succeeded  by 
throwing  herself,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  life  and  limb, 
a  second  time  into  the  pass  which  he  was  descending,  so 
as  to  interrupt  his  purpose.  In  order  to  achieve  this, 
ihe  was  obliged  to  let  herself  drop  a  considerable  height 


I 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  217 

from  the  wall  of  a  small  flanking  battery,  where  two 
small  patereroes  were  placed  to  scour  the  pass,  in  case 
any  enemy  could  have  mounted  so  high.  Julian  had 
scarce  time  to  shudder  at  her  purpose,  as  he  beheld  her 
about  to  spring  from  the  parapet,  ere,  like  a  thing  of 
gossamer,  she  stood  light,  and  uninjured  on  the  rocky 
platform  below.  He  endeavoured,  by  the  gravity  of  his 
look  and  gesture,  to  make  her  understand  how  much  he 
blamed  her  rashness  ;  but  the  reproof,  though  obviously 
quite  intelligible,  was  entirely  thrown  away.  A  hasty 
wave  of  her  hand  intimated  how  she  contemned  the  dan- 
ger and  the  remonstrance;  while,  at  the  same  time,  she 
instantly  resumed,  with  more  eagerness  than  before,  the 
earnest  and  impressive  gestures  by  which  she  endeavour- 
ed to  detain  him  in  the  fortress. 

Julian  was  somewhat  staggered  by  her  pertinacity. 
"Is  it  possible,"  he  thought,  "that  any  danger  can  ap- 
proach the  Countess,  of  which  this  poor  maiden  has,  by 
the  extreme  acuteuess  of  her  observation,  obtained 
knowledge  which  has  escaped  others:" 

He  signed  to  Fenella  hastily  to  give  him  the  tablets 
and  the  pencil  which  she  usually  carried  with  her,  and 
wrote  on  them  the  question,  "  Is  there  danger  near  to 
your  mistress,  that  yon  thus  stop  me  f " 

"There  is  danger  around  the  Countess,r'  was  the  an- 
swer instantly  wiitten  clown;  "  but  there  is  much  more 
in  your  own  purpose." 

"How? — what? — what  know  you  of  my  purpose?" 
MU  1  Julian,  forgetting,  in  his  surprise,  that  the  party  he 
addressed  had  neither  ear  to  comprehend,  nor  voice  to 
reply  to  uttered  ianguage.  She  had.  regained  her  book 
in  the  mean-time,  and  sketched,  with  a  rapid  pencil,  on 
one  of  the  leaves,  a  scene  uhieh  she  slowed  to  Julian. 
To  his  infinite  surprise  he  recognized  Goddard  Croi  an's 
stone,  a  remarkable  monument,  of  w\  ,Ai  -he  had  given 
the  oioi'.iie  withsufrcientaccurac)  ;  together  with  a  male 
and  female  figure,  which,  though  only  indicted  by  a  tVw 
slight  touches  of  the  pencil,  bore  vet,  he  thought,  some 
resemblance  Jo  himself  and  Alice  Bridgenorth. 

\\  hen  he  had  gazed  on  the  sketch  for  an  nioiaut  with 
*      vol.  i.  19 


218  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

surprise,  Fenella  took  the  book  from  his  hand,  laid  her 
finger  upon  the  drawing,  and  slowly  and  sternly  shook 
Iicr  head,  with  a  frown  which  seemed  to  prohibit  the 
meeting  which  was  there  represented.  Julian,  however, 
though  disconcerted  was  in  no  shape  disposed  to  submit 
to  the  authority  of  his  monitress.  By  whatever  means 
she,  who  so  seldom  stirred  from  the  Countess's  apartment, 
had  become  acquainted  with  a  secret  which  he  thought 
entirely  his  own,  he  esteemed  it  the  more  necessarv  to 
keep  the  appointed  rendezvous,  that  he  might  learn  from 
Alice,  if  possible,  how  the  secret  had  transpired.  He 
had  also  formed  the  intention  of  seeking  out  Bridge- 
north  ;  entertaining  an  idea  that  a  person  so  reasonable 
and  calm  as  he  had  shown  himself  in  their  late  confer- 
ence, might  be  persuaded,  when  he  understood  that  the 
Countess  was  aware  of  his  intrigues,  to  put  an  end  to 
her  danger  and  his  own,  by  withdrawing  from  the  island. 
And  could  he  succeed  in  this  point,  he  should  at  once,  he 
thought,  render  a  material  benefit  to  the  father  of  his 
beloved  Alice — remove  the  Earl  from  his  state  of  anxie- 
ty— save  the  Countess  from  a  second  time  putting  her 
feudal  jurisdiction  in  opposition  to  that  of  the  Crown  of 
England — and  secure  quiet  possession  of  the  island  to 
her  and  her  family. 

With  this  scheme  of  mediation  in  his  mind,  Peveril 
determined  to  rid  himself  of  the  opposition  of  Fenella 
to  his  departure,  with  less  ceremony  than  he  had  hitherto 
observed  towards  her;  and  suddenly  lifting  up  the  dam- 
sel in  his  arms  before  she  was  aware  of  his  purpose,  he 
turned  about,  set  her  down  on  the  steps  above  him,  and  be- 
gan to  descend  the  pass  himself  as  speedily  as  possible.  It 
was  then  that  the  dumb  maiden  gave  full  course  to  the  ve- 
hemence of  her  disposition  ;  and  clapping  her  hands  re- 
peatedly, expressed  her  displeasure  in  a  sound,  or  rather 
a  shriek,  so  extremely  dissonant,  that  it  resembled  more  I 
the  cry  of  a  wild  creature,  than  any  thing  whiclrxould 
have  been  uttered  by  female  organs.  Peveril  was  so 
astounded  at  the  scream  as  it  rung  through  the  living 
rocks,  that  he  could  not  help  stopping  and  looking  back 
in  alarm,  to  satisfv  himself  that  she  had  not  sustained 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  219 


some  injury.  He  saw  her,  however,  perfectly  safe,  though 
her  face  seemed  inflamed  and  distorted  with  passion. 
She  stamped  at  him  with  her  foot,  shook  her  clenched 
hand,  and  turning  her  back  upon  him,  without  further 
adieu,  ran  up  the  rude  steps  as  lightly  as  a  kid  could  have 
tripped  up  that  rugged  ascent,  and  paused  for  a  moment 
at  the  summit  of  the  first  flight. 

Julian  could  feel  nothing  but  wonder  and  compassion 
for  the  impotent  passion  of  a  being  so  unfortunately  cir- 
cumstanced, cut  off,  as  it  were,  from  the  rest  of  mankind, 
and  incapable  of  receiving  in  childhood  that  moral  dis- 
cipline which  teaches  us  mastery  of  our  wayward  pas- 
sions, ere  yet  they  have  attained  their  meridian  strength 
and  violence.  He  waved  his  hand  to  her,  in  token  of 
amicable  farewell;  but  she  only  replied  by  once  more 
menacing  him  with  her  little  hand  clenched;  and  then 
ascending  the  rocky  staircase  with  almost  prenatural 
speed,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

Julian,  on  his  part,  gave  no  further  consideration  to 
her  conduct  or  its  motives,  but  hastening  to  the  village 
on  the  mainland,  where  the  stables  of  the  Castle  were 
situated,  he  again  took  his  palfrey  from  the  stall,  and 
was  soon  mounted  and  on  his  way  to  the  appointed  place 
of  rendezvous,  much  marvelling,  as  he  ambled  forwards 
with  speed  far  greater  than  was  promised  by  the  diminu- 
tive size  of  the  animal  he  was  mounted  on,  what  could 
have  happened  to  produce  so  great  a  change  in  Alice's 
conduct  towards  him,  that  in  place  of  enjoining  his  ab- 
sence as  usual,  or  recommending  his  departure  from  the 
island,  she  should  now  voluntarily  invite  him  to  a  meet- 
ing. Under  impression  of  the  various  doubts  which  suc- 
ceeded each  other  in  his  imagination,  he  sometimes  press- 
ed Fairy's  sides  with  his  legs  :  sometimes  laid  his  holly 
rod  lightly  on  his  neck  ;  sometimes  incited  him  by  his 
voice,  for  the  mettled  animal  needed  neither  whip  nor 
spur,  and  achieved  the  distance  betwixt  the  Castle  of 
Holm-Peel  and  the  stone  at  Goddard  Crovan,at  the  rate 
of  twelve  miles  within  the  hour. 

The  monumental  stone,  designed  to  commemorate 
some  feat  of  an  ancient  King  of  Man,  which  had  been 


2&0  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

loner  forerotten,  was  erected  on  the  side  of  a  narrow  and 
lonely  valley,  or  rather  glen,  secluded  from  observation 
by  the  steepness  of  its  banks,  upon  a  projection  of  which 
stood  the  tall,  shapeless,  solitary  rock,  frowning  like  a 
shrouded  giant  over  the  brawling  of  the  small  rivulet- 
which  watered  the  ravine. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


Tliis  a  love-meeting-?  Seethe  maiden  mourn9, 
And  the  sad  suitor  bends  his  looks  on  earth. 
There's  more  hath  past  between  them  than  belongs 
To  Love's  sweet  sorrows. 

Old  Play. 

As  he  approached  the  monument  of  Goddard  Crovan, 
Julian  cast  many  an  anxious  glance  to  see  whether  any 
object  visible  beside  the  huge  gray  stone  should  apprize 
him,  whether  he  was  anticipated,  at  the  appointed  place 
of  rendezvous,  by  her  who  had  named  it.  Nor  was  it 
long  before  the  flutter  of  a  mantle,  which  the  breeze 
slightly  waved,  and  the  motion  necessary  to  replace  it 
upon  the  wearer's  shoulders,  made  him  aware  that  Alice 
had  already  reached  their  place  of  meeting.  One  instant 
set  the  palfrey  at  liberty,  with  slackened  girths  and 
loosened  reins,  to  pick  its  own  way  through  the  dell  at 
will ;  another  placed  Julian  Peveril  by  the  side  of  Alice 
Bridgenorth. 

That  Alice  should  extend  her  hand  to  her  lover,  as 
with  the  ardour  of  a  young  greyhound  he  bounded  over 
the  obstacles  of  the  rugged  path,  was  as  natural  as  that 
Julian,  seized  on  the  hand  so  kindly  stretched  out,  should 
devour  it  with  kisses,  and,  for  a  moment  or  two,  without 
reprehension;  while  the  other  hand,  which  should  have 
aided  in  the  liberation  of  its  fellow,  served  to  hide  the 
blushes  of  the  fair  owner.  But  Alice,  young  as  she  was, 
and  attached  to  Julian  by  such  long  habits  of  kindly  in- 
timacy, still  knew  well  how  to  subdue  the  tendency  of 
her  own  treacherous  affections. 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  -21 

''This  is  not  right,"  she  said,  extricating  her  hand 
from  Julian's  grasp,  "  this  is  not  right,  Julian.  If  I  have 
been  too  rash  in  admitting  such  a  meetiug  as  the  present, 
it  is  not  you  that  should  make  me  sensible  of  my  folly." 

Julian  Peveril's  mind  had  been  early  illumined  with 
that  touch  of  romantic  fire  which  deprives  passion  of 
selfishness,  and  confers  on  it  the  high  and  refined  tone  of 
generous  and  disinterested  devotion.  He  let  go  the 
hand  of  Alice  with  as  much  respect  as  he  could  have 
paid  to  that  of  a  princess ;  and  when  she  seated  herself 
upon  a  rocky  fragment,  over  which  nature  had  stretched 
a  cushion  of  moss  and  lichen,  interspersed  with  wild 
flowers,  backed  with  a  bush  of  copsewood,  he  took  his 
place  beside  her,  indeed,  but  at  such  a  distance  as  to  in- 
timate the  duty  of  an  attendant,  who  was  there  only  to 
hear  and  to  obey.  Alice  Bridgenorth  became  more  as- 
sured as  she  observed  the  power  which  she  possessed 
over  her  lover;  and  the  self  command  which  Peveril 
exhibited,  which  other  damsels  in  her  situation  might 
have  judged  inconsistent  with  intensity  of  passion,  she 
appreciated  more  justly,  as  a  proof  of  his  respectful  and 
disinterested  sincerity.  She  recovered,  in  addressing 
him,  th<  tone  of  confidence  which  rather  belonged  to  the 
scenes  of  their  early  acquaintance,  than  to  those  which 
ha<l  passed  betwixt  them  since  Peveril  had  disclosed  his 
affection,  and  thereby  had  brought  restraint  upon  their 
intercourse. 

"  Julian,"  she  said,  "  your  visit  of  yesterday — yom 
most  ill  timed  visit,  has  distressed  me  much.  It  has 
misled  my  father — it  has  endangered  you.  At  all  risks, 
I  resolved  that  you  should  know  this,  and  blame  me  not 
if  I  have  taken  a  bold  and  imprudent  step  in  desiring; 
this  solitary  interview,  since^you  are  aware  how  little 
poor  Deborah  is  to  be  trusted." 

"  Can  you  fear  misconstruction  from  me,  Alice?"  re- 
plied Peveril,  warmly ;  "  from  me.  whom  you  have 
thus  highly  favoured — thus  deeply  obliged?" 

"  Cease  your  protestations,  Julian,"  answered  the 
maiden,  "  they  do  but  make  me  the  more  sensible  that; 
I    have   acted  over  boldly.     But  1  did  for  tne  best.— I 

19* 


222  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

could  not  see  37ou,  whom  I   have  known   so  long — you, 
who  say  you  regard  me  with  partiality '' 

"  Say  that  I  regard  you  with  partiality?"  interrupted 
Peveril  in  his  turn.  '•  Ah,  Alice,  what  a  cold  and 
doubtful  phrase  you  have  used  to  express  the  most  de- 
voted, the  most  sincere  affection  !" 

11  Well,  then,"  said  Alice,  sadly,  "  we  will  not  quar- 
rel about  words:  but  do  not  aerain  interrupt  me.-  I 
could  not,  1  say,  see  you,  who,  I  believe,  regard  me 
with  sincere  though  vain  and  fruitless  attachment,  rush 
blindfold  into  a  snare,  deceived  and  seduced  by  those 
yery  feelings  towards  me." 

"  I  understand  you  not,  Alice,"  said  Peveril;  "nor 
can  I  see  any  danger  to  which  I  am  at  present  exposed. 
The  sentiments  which  your  father  has  expressed  towards 
me,  are  of  a  nature  irreconcilable  with  hostile  purposes. 
If  he  is  not  offended  with  the  bold  wishes  1  may  have 
formed,  and  his  whole  behaviour  shows  the  contrary,  I 
know  not  a  man  on  earth  from  whom  J  have  the  least 
cause  to  apprehend  any  danger  or  ill  will." 

"  My  father,"  said  Alice,  "  means  well  by  his  coun- 
try, and  well  by  you  ;  yet  I  sometimes  fear  he  may  ra- 
ther injure  than  ^erxe  his  good  cause;  and  still  more  do 
I  dread,  that  in  attempting  to  engage  you  as  an  auxili- 
ary, he  forgets  those  ties  which  ought  to  bind  you,  an  1 
I  am  sure  which  will  bind  you,  to  a  different  line  of  con- 
duct from  his  own." 

"  You  lead  me  into  still  deeper  darkness,  Alice,"  an- 
swered Peveril.  "  That  your  father's  especial  line  of 
politics  differs  widely  from  mine,  1  know  well ;  but  how 
many  instances  have  occurred,  even  during  the  bloody 
scenes  of  civil  warfare,  of  good  and  worthy  men  laving 
the  prejudice  of  party  affections  aside,  and  regarding 
each  other  with  respect,  and  even  with  friendly  attach- 
ment, without  being  false  to  principle  on  either  side?" 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Alice;  "but  such  is  not  the 
league  which  my  father  desires  to  form  with  you,  and 
that  to  which  he  hopes  your  misplaced  partiality  to- 
wards his  daughter  may  afford  a  motive  for  your  forming 
with  him." 


FEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  22$ 

M  And  what  is  it,"  said  Pes  ml,  "  which  I  would  re- 
fuse, with  such  a  prospect  before  me?" 

"  Treachery  and  dishonour !"  replied  Alice;  "what- 
ever would  render  you  unworthy  of  the  poor  boon  at 
which  you  aim — ay,  were  it  more  worthless  than  I  con- 
fess it  to  be." 

"  Would  your  father,"  said  Peveril,  as  he  unwillingly 
received  the  impression  which  Alice  designed  to  convey, 
— "  would  he,  whose  views  of  dim  are  so  strict  and  se- 
vere— would  he  wish  to  involve  me  in  aught,  to  which 
such  harsh  epithets  as  treachery  and  dishonour  can  be 
applied  with  the  slightest  shadow  of  truth?" 

"  Do  not  mistake  me,  Julian,"  replied  the  maiden; 
"  my  father  is  incapable  of  requesting  aught  of  you  that 
is  not  to  his  thinking  just  and  honourable;  nay,  he  con- 
ceives that  he  only  claims  from  you  a  debt,  which  is  due 
as  a  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  as  a  man  to  your  fel- 
low-men." 

"  So  guarded,  where  can  be  the  danger  of  our  inter- 
course?" replied  Julian.  "  If  he  be  resolved  to  require, 
and  I  determined  to  accede  to,  nothing  save  what  flows 
from  conviction,  what  have  1  to  fear,  Alice?  and  how  is 
my  intercourse  with  your  father  dangerous?  Believe  not 
so;  his  speech  has  already  made  impression  on  me  in 
some  particulars,  and  he  listened  with  candour  and  pa- 
tience to  the  objections  which  I  made  occasionallv.  You 
do  Master  Bridgenorth  less  than  justice  in  confounding 
him  with  the  unreasonable  bigots  in  policy  and  religion, 
who  can  listen  to  no  argument  but  what  favours  their 
own  prepossessions." 

*•  Julian,"  replied  Alice,  "  it  is  you  who  misjudge  my 
father's  powers,  and  his  purpose  with  respect  to  you, 
and  who  overrate  your  own  powers  of  resistance.  I  am 
but  a  girl,  but  I  have  been  taught  by  circumstances  to 
think  for  myself,  and  to  consider  the  character  of  those 
who  are  around  me.  M\  father's  views  in  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  policy,  are  as  dear  to  him  as  the  life  which  he 
cherishes  only  to  advance  them.  They  have  been,  with 
little  alteration,  his  companions  through  life.  They 
brought  him  at  one  period  into  prosperity,  and  when 
they  suited  not  the  times,  he  suffered  for  having  held 


&24  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

■ 

them.  They  have  become  not  only  a  part,  but  the  very 
dearest  part  of  his  existence.  If  he  shows  them  not  to 
you  at  first,  in  the  inflexible  strength  which  they  have 
acquired  over  his  mind,  do  not  believe  that  they  are  the 
less  powerful.  He  who  desires  to  make  converts,  must 
begin  by  degrees.  But  that  he  should  sacrifice  to  an 
inexperienced  young  man,  whose  ruling  motive  he  will 
term  a  childish  passion,  any  part  of  those  treasured 
principles  which  he  has  maintained  through  good  repute 
and  bad  repute — O,  do  not  dream  of  such  an  impossibili- 
ty !  If  you  meet  at  all,  you  must  be  the  wax,  he  the 
seal — you  must  receive — he  must  bestow  an  absolute 
impression." 

"  That,"  said  Peveril,  "  were  unreasonable.  I  will 
frankly  avow  to  you,  Alice,  that  I  am  not  a  sworn  bigot 
to  the  opinions  entertained  by  my  father,  much  as  I  re- 
spect his  person.  I  would  that  our  Cavaliers,  or  whatso- 
ever they  are  pleased  to  call  themselves,  would  have 
some  more  charity  towards  those  who  differ  from  them 
in  Church  and  State.  But  to  hope  that  I  would  sur- 
render the  principles  in  which  I  have  lived,  were  to  sup- 
pose me  capable  of  deserting  my  benefactress,  and 
breaking  the  heart  of  my  parents.' 

"  E^'en  so  I  judged  of  you  ;  and  therefore,  I  asked 
this  interview,  to  conjure  you  that  you  will  break  off  all 
intercourse  with  our  family — return  to  your  parents — 
or,  what  will  be  much  safer,  visit  the  continent  once 
more,  and  abide  till  God  sends  better  days  to  England, 
for  these  are  black  with  many  a  storm." 

';  And  can  you  bid  me  go,  Alice  ?''  said  the  young  man, 
taking  her  unresisting  hand  ;  "  can  you  bid  me  go,  and 
yet  own  an  interest  in  my  fate  ? — Can  you  bid  me,  for 
fear  of  dangers,  which,  as  a  man,  as  a  gentleman,  and  a 
loyal  one,  I  am  bound  to  show  my  face  to,  meanly  aban- 
don my  parents,  my  friends,  my  country — sutler  the  ex- 
istence of  evils  which  \  might  aid  to  prevent,  forego  the 
prospect  of  doing  such  little  good  as  might  be  in  my 
power — fall  from  an  active  and  honourable  station,  into 
the  condition  of  a  fugitive  and  timeserver — Can  you  bid 
«ne  do  all  this,  Alice  ?  ^  Can  you  bid  me  do  all  this,  and, 


PEVERIL    OF    THE"    PEAK.  225 

in  the  same  breath,  bid  farewell  for  ever  to  you  and 
happiness  ? — It  is  impossible — 1  cannot  surrender  at 
once  my  love  and  my  honour." 

"  There  is  no  remedy,"  said  Alice,  but  she  could  not 
suppress  a  sigh  while  she  said  so — "  there  is  no  remedy 
— none  whatever.  What  we  might  have  been  to  each 
other,  placed  in  more  favourable  circumstances,  it  avails 
not  to  think  of  now  ;  and,  circumstanced  as  we  are,  with 
open  war  about  to  break  out  betwixt  our  parents  and 
friends,  we  can  be  but  well-wishers — cold  and  distant 
well-wishers,  who  must  part  on  this  spot,  and  at  this 
hour,  never  to  meet  again." 

*•  No,  by  Heaven  !"  said  Peveril,  animated  at  the 
same  time  by  his  own  feelings,  and  by  the  sight  of  the 
emotions  which  his  companion  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
suppress, — "  No,  by  Heaven!''  he  exclaimed,  "we  part 
not — Alice,  we  part  not.  If  I  am  to  leave  my  native 
land,  you  shall  be  my  companion  in  my  exile.  What 
have  you  to  lose  ? — Whom  have  you  to  abandon  ? — 
Y"ur  father? — The  good  old  cause,  as  it  is  termed,  is 
dearer  to  him  than  a  thousand  daughters;  and  setting 
him  aside,  what  tie  is  there  between  you  and  this  barren 
ish — between  my  Alice  and  any  spot  of  the  British  do- 
minions, where  her  Julian  does  not  sit  by  her?" 

kk  Oh,  Julian,"  answered  the  maiden,  tk  why  make 
duty  more  painful  by  visionary  projects,  which  you 
ou^ht  not  to  name,  or  1  to  listen  to  ? — Your  parents — 
my  lather — it  cannot  be  !" 

"  Fear  not  for  my  parents,  Alice,"  replied  Julian,  and 
pressing  close  to  his  companion's  side,  he  ventured  to 
(brow  his  arm  around  her;  "  they  love  me,  and  they 
will  soon  learn  to  love  in  Alice,  the  only  being  on  earth 
who  could  have  rendered  their  son  happy.  And  for 
your  own  father,  when  State  and  Church  intrigues  allow 
him  to  bestow  a  thought  upon  you,  will  he  not  think 
that  your  happiness,  your  security,  is  better  cued  for 
when  you  are«my  wife,  than  were  you  to  continue  under 
the  mercenary  charge  of  yonder  foolish  woman  ?  What 
could  his  pride  desire  better  for  you,  than  the  establish- 
ment which  will  one  day  he  mine?  C  >me  then,  Alice, 
?md  since  you  condemn  me  to   banishment — since  you 


226  PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK. 

deny  me  a  share  in  those  stirring  achievements  which 
are  about  to  agitate  England — come  !  do  you,  for  you 
only  can,  do  you  reconcile  me  to  exile  and  inaction,  and 
give  happiness  to  one,  who,  for  your  sake,  is  willing  to 
resign  honour." 

"  It  cannot — it  cannot  be,"  said  Alice,  faltering  as 
she  uttered  her  negative.  "  And  yet,"  she  said,  "  how 
many  in  my  place — left  alone  and  unprotected,  as  I  am 
■ — But  I  must  not — I  must  not  for  your  sake^  Julian,  I 
must  not." 

"  Say  not  for  my  sake  you  must  not,  Alice,"  said  Pe- 
veril,  eagerly  ;  "  this  is  adding  insult  to  cruelty.  If  you 
will  do  aught  for  my  sake,  you  will  say  )es;  or  you  will' 
suffer  this  dear  head  to  drop  on  my  shoulder—- the 
slightest  sign — the  moving  of  an  eyelid,  shall  signify 
consent.  All  shall  be  prepared  within  an  hour;  within 
another,  the  priest  shall  unite  us  ;  and  within  a  third,  . 
we  leave  the  isle  behind  us,  and  seek  our  fortunes  on 
the  continent."  But  while  he  spoke,  in  joyful  antici- 
pation of  the  consent  which  he  implored,  Alice  found 
means  to  collect  together  her  resolution,  which  stagger- 
ed by  the  eagerness  of  her  lover,  the  impulse  of  her  own 
affection,  and  the  singularity  of  her  situation, — seeming, 
in  her  case,  to  justify  what  would  have  been  most  blame- 
able  in  another, — had  more  than  half  abandoned  her. 

The  result  of  a  moment's  deliberation  was  fatal  to 
Julian's  proposal.  She  extricated  herself  from  the  arm 
which  had  pressed  her  to  his  side — arose,  and  repelling 
his  attempts  to  approach  or  detain  her,  said,  with  a  sim- 
plicity not  unmingled  with  dignity,  "  Julian,  I  always 
knew  I  risked  much  in  inviting  you  to  this  meeting  ;  but 
I  did  not  guess  that  I  could  have  been  so  cruel  both  to 
you  and  to  myself,  as  to  suffer  you  to  discover  what  you 
have  to-day  seen  too  plainly — that  I  love  you  better  than 
you  love  me.  But  since  you  do  know  it,  I  will  show 
you  that  Alice's  love  is  disinterested—  She  will  not  bring 
an  ignoble  name  into  your  ancient  house.  If  hereafter 
in  your  line  there  should  arise  some  who  may  think  the 
claims  of  the  hierarchy  too  exorbitant,  the  powers  of  the 
crown  too  extensive,  men  shall  not  say  these  ideas  were 
derived  from  Alice  Bridgenorth,  their  whig  grand-dame/' 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  227 

"  Can  you  speak  thus,  Alice  ?"  said  her  lover.  "  Can 
you  use  such  expressions  ?  and  are  you  not  sensible  that 
they  show  plainly  it  is  your  own  pride,  not  regard  for  me, 
that  makes  you  resist  the  happines>  of  both  ?" 

"  Not  so,  Julian  ;  not  so,''  answered  Alice,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  ;  "  it  is  the  command  of  duty  to  us  both — 
of  duty,  which  we  cannot  transgress  without  risking  our 
happiness  here  and  hereafter.  Think  what  I,  the  cause 
of  all,  should  feel,  when  your  father  frowns,  your  mother 
weeps,  your  noble  friends  stand  aloof,  and  you,  even  you 
yourself,  shall  have  made  the  painful  discovery,  that  you 
hare  incurred  the  contempt  and  resentment  of  all  to  sa- 
tisfy a  boyish  passion  ;  and  that  the  poor  beauty,  once 
sufficient  to  mislead  you,  was  gradually  declining  under 
the  influence  of  grief  and  vexation.  This  I  will  not  risk. 
1  see  distinctly  it  is  best  we  should  here  break  off  and 
part;  and  I  thank  God,  who  gives  me  light  enough  to 
perceive,  and  strength  enough  to  withstand,  your  folly 
as  well  as  my  own.  Farewell  then,  Julian  ;  but  first 
take  the  solemn  advice  which  I  called  you  hither  to  im- 
part to  you  : — Shun  my  father — you  cannot  walk  in  his 
paths  and  be  true  to  gratitude  and  to  honour.  What  he 
doeth  from  pure  and  honourable  motives,  you  cannot  aid 
him  in,  except  upon  the  suggestion  of  a  silly  and  interest- 
ed passion,  at  variance  with  all  the  engagements  you 
have  formed  at  coming  into  life." 

"Once  more,  Alice,"  answered  Julian,  "I  under- 
stand you  not.  If  a  course  of  action  is  good,  it  needs 
no  vindication  from  the  actor's  motives — if  bad,  it  can 
derive  none." 

"  You  cannot  blind  me  with  your  sophistry,  Julian," 
replied  Alice  Bridgenorth,  "  any  more  than  you  can 
overpower  me  with  your  passion.  Had  the  patriarch 
destined  his  son  to  death  upon  any  less  ground  than  faith 
and  humble  obedience  to  a  divine  commandment,  lie  had 
meditated  a  murder,  and  not.  a  sacrifice.  In  our  late 
bloody  and  lame'ntable  wars,  how  many  drew  swords  on 
either  sides,  from  the  purest  and  most  honourable  mo- 
tives'? How  many  from  the  culpable  suggestions  of  am- 
bition,  self-seeking,  and  love   of  plunder?    Yet  while 


228  l'EVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

tliev  marched  in  the  same  ranks,  and  spurred  their  horses 
at  (he  same  trumpet-sound,  the  memory  of  the  former 
are  dear  to  us  as  patriots  or  loyalists — that  of  those  who 
acted  on  mean  or  unworthy  promptings,  is  either  exe- 
crated or  forgotten.  Once  more,  1  warn  you,  avoid  my 
father  -  leave  this  island,  which  will  be  soon  agitated  by 
strange  incidents — while  you  stay,  be  on  your  guard — 
distrust  every  thing — be  jealous  of  every  one,  even  of 
those  to  whom  it  may  seem  almost  impossible,  from  cir- 
cumstances, to  attach  a  shadow  of  suspicion — trust  not 
the  very  stones  of  the  most  secret  apartment  in  Holm- 
Pee!,  for  that  which  hath  wings  shall  carry  the  matter." 

Here  Alice  broke  off  suddenly,  and  with  a  faint  shriek  ; 
for,  stepping  from  behind  the  stunted  copse  which  had 
concealed  him,  her  father  stood  unexpectedly  before 
them. 

The  reader  cannot  have  forgotten  that  this  was  the 
second  time  in  which  the  stolen  interviews  of  the  lovers 
had  been  interrupted  by  the  unexpected  apparition  of 
Major  Bridgenorth.  On  this  second  occasion  his  coun- 
tenance exhibited  anger  mixed  with  solemnity,  like  that 
of  the  spirit  to  a  ghost-seer,  whom  he  upbraids  with  hav- 
ing neglected  a  charge  imposed  at  their  first  meeting. 
Even  his  anger,  how  ever,  produced  no  more  violent  emo- 
tion than  a  cold  sternness  of  manner  in  his  speech  and 
action.  "  1  thank  you,  Alice,''  he  said  to  his  daughter, 
"  for  the  pains  you  have  taken  to  traverse  my  designs 
towards  this  young  man,  and  towards  yourself.  I  thank 
you  for  the  hints  you  have  throw  n  out  before  my  appear- 
ance, the  suddenness  of  which  alone  has  prevented  you 
from  carrying  your  confidence  to  a  pitch  which  would 
have  placed  mv  life  and  that  of  others  at  the  discretion 
of  a  boy,  who,  when  the  cause  of  God  and  his  country  is 
laid  before  him,  has  not  leisure  to  think  of  them,  so  much 
is  he  occupied  with  such  a  baby-face  as  thine."  Alice, 
pale  as  death,  continued  motionless,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  without  attempting  the  slightest  reply  to 
the  ironical  reproaches  of  her  father. 

"  And  you,"  continued  Major  Bridgenorth,  turning 
from   his   daughter   to    her  -  lover,—"  you,    sir,  have 


PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK.  229 

well  repaid  the  liberal  confidence  which  I  placed  in  you 
with  so  little  reserve.  You  I  have  to  thank  also  for  some 
lessons,  which  may  teach  me  to  rest  satisfied  with  the 
churl's  blood  which  nature  has  poured  into  my  viens, 
and  with  the  rude  nurture  which  my  father  allotted  to 
me." 

"  I  understand  you  not,  sir,"  replied  Julian  Peveril, 
who,  feeling  the  necessity  of  saying  something,  could 
not,  at  the  moment,  find  any  thing  more  fitting  to  say. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  thank  you,"  said  Major  Bridgenorth,  in 
the  same  cold  sarcastic  tone,  '•  for  having  shown  me  that 
breach  of  hospitality,  infringement  of  good  faith,  and 
such  like  peccadillos.  are  not  utterly  foreign  to  the  mind 
and  conduct  of  the  heir  of  a  knightly  house  of  twenty 
descents.  It  is  a  great  lesson  to  me,  sir  ;  for  hitherto  I 
had  thought  with  the  vulgar,  that  gentle  manners  went 
with  gentle  blood  But  perhaps  courtesy  is  too  chival- 
rous a  quality  to  be  wasted  in  intercourse  with  a  round- 
headed  fanatic  like  myself." 

"  .Major  Bridgenorth,"  said  Julian,  "  whatever  has 
happened  in  this  interview  which  may  have  displeased 
you,  has  been  the  result  of  feelings  suddenly  and  strong- 
ly animated  -by  the  crisis  of  the  moment — nothing  was 
premeditated." 

'•  Not  even  your  meeting,  1  suppose?"  replied  Bridge- 
north,  in  the  same  cold  tone.  "  You,  sir,  wandered  hi- 
ther from  Holm-Peel — my  daughter  strolled  forth  from 
the  Black-Fort  ;  and  chance,  doubtless,  assigned  you  a 
meeting  by  the  stone  of  Goddard  Crovan  ? — Young  .nan, 
disgrace  yourself  by  no  more  apologies — they  are  worse 
than  useless. — And  you,  maiden,  who,  in  your  fear  of 
losing  your  lover,  could  verge  on  betraying  what  might 
halve  cost  a  father  his  life — begone  to  your  home.  I  will 
talk  with  you  at  more  leisure,  and  teach  you  practically 
those  duties  which  you  ^eem  to  have  forgotten." 

"On  my  honour,  s    ,  '  said  Julian,  "your  daughter  is 
guiltless  of  all  that  can  offend  you  ;  she  resisted  eve  y  of- 
fer which  the  headstrong  violence  of  my  passion  urged 
me  to  press  upon  her." 
'•  And,  in  brief,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  I  am  not  to  be- 
Vol.  I.  20  " 


230  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

lieve  that  you  have  met  at  this  remote  place  of  rendez- 
vous by  Alice's  special  appointment?*1 

Pever'ri  knew  not  what  to  reply,  and  Bridgenorth  again 
signed  with  his  hand  to  his  daughter  to  withdraw 

"  I  obey  you.  father,"  said  Alice,  who  had  by  this  time 
recovered  from  the  extremity  of  her  surprise, — "  I  obey 
you;  but  heaven  is  my  witness,  that  you  do  me  more 
than  injustice  in  suspecting  me  capable  of  betraying  your 
secrets,  even  had  it  been  necessary  to  save  my  own  life, 
or  that  of  Julian.  That  you  are  walking  in  a  dangerous 
path  I  well  know :  but  you  do  it  with  your  eyes  open, 
and  are  actuated  by  motives  of  which  you  can  estimate 
the  worth  and  value.  My  sole  wish  was,  that  this  young 
man  should  not  enter  blindfold  on  the  same  perils ;  and  I 
had  a  right  to  warn  him.  since  the  feelings  by  which  he 
is  hood  winked  had  a  direct  reference  to  me.'' 

"  'Tis  well,  minion,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  ;'  you  have 
spoken  your  say.  Retire,  and  let  me  complete  the  con- 
ference which  you  have  so  considerately  commenced." 

"  I  go.  sir,*'  said  Alice. — "  Julian,  to  you  my  last 
words  are,  and  I  would  speak  them  with  my  last  breath, 
Farewell,  and  caution." 

She  turned  from  them,  disappeared  among  the  under- 
wood, and  was  seen  no  more. 

"  A  true  specimen  of  womankind,"  said  her  father, 
looking  after  her,  "  who  would  give  the  cause  of  nations 
up.  rather  than  endanger  a  hair  of  her  lover's  head. — 
You,  Master  Peveril,  doubtless,  hold  her  opinion,  that 
the  best  love  is  a  safe  love?" 

"Were  danger  alone  in  my  way,"  said  Peveril.  much 
surprised  at  the  softened  tone  in  which  Bridgenorth  made 
this  observation,  "  there  are  few  things  which  1  would 
not  face  to — to — deserve  your  good  opinion." 

"  Or  rather  to  win  my  daughter's  hand,"  said  Bridge- 
north.  "  Well,  young  man,  one  thing  has  pleased  me 
in  your  conduct,  though  of  much  I  have  my  reasons  to 
complain — one  thing  has  pleased  me.  You  have  sur- 
mounted that  bounding  wall  of  aristocratical  pride  in 
which  your  father,  and,  I  suppose,  his  fothers,  remained 
imprisoned,  as  in  the  precincts  of  a  feudal  fortress — you 
have  leaped  over  this  barrier,  and   shown  yourself  not 


^EYERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  231 

unwilling  to  ally  yourself  with  a  family,  whom  your  fa- 
ther spurns  as  low-born  and  ignoble." 

However  favourably  this  speech  sounded  towards  suc- 
cess in  his  suit,  it  so  broadly  stated  the  consequences  of 
that  success  so-  far  as  his  parents  were  concerned,  that 
Julian  felt  it  in  the  last  degree  difficult  to  reply.  At 
length,  perceiving  that  IV|»jor  Bridgenorth  seemed  re- 
solved quietly  to  await  his  answer,  he  mustered  up  cou- 
rage to  say,  "  The  feelings  which  I  entertain  towards 
your  daughter,  Master  Bridge-north,  arc  of  a  nature  to 
supersede  many  other  considerations,  to  which,  in  any 
other  case,  I  should  feel  it  my  duty  to  give  the  most 
reverential  attention.  I  will  not  disguise  from  you,  that 
my  father's  prejudices  against  such  a  match  would  be 
very  strong  ;  but  I  devoutly  believe  they  would  disap- 
pear when  he  came  to  know  the  merit  of  Alice  Bridge- 
north,  and  to  be  sensible  that  she  only  could  make  his 
son  happy." 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  you  are  desirous  to  complete  the 
union  which  you  propose  without  the  knowledge  of  your 
parents,  and  take  the  chance  of  their  being  hereafter  re- 
conciled to  it  ?  So  I  understand  from  the  proposal  which 
you  made  but  lately  to  my  daughter." 

The  turns  of  human  nature,  and  of  human  passion, 
are  so  irregular  and  uncertain,  that  although  Julian  had 
but  a  few  minutes  before  urged  to  Alice  a  private  mar- 
riage, and  an  elopement  to  the  continent,  as  a  measure 
upon  which  the  whole  happiness  of  his  life  depended,  the 
proposal  seemed  not  to  him  half  so  delightful  when  stat- 
ed by  the  calm,  cold,  dictatorial  accents  of  her  father.' 
It  sounded  no  longer  like  the  dictates  of  ardent  passion, 
throwing  all  other  considerations  aside,  but  as  a  distinct 
surrender  of  the  dignity  of  his  house  to  one  who  seemed 
to  consider  their  relative  situation  as  the  triumph  of 
Bridgenorth  over  Peveril.  He  was  mute  for  a  moment, 
in  the  vain  attempt  to  shape  his  answer  so  as  at  once  to 
intimate  acquiescence  in  what  Bridgenorth  stated,  and  a 
vindication  of  his  own  regard  for  his  parents,  and  for  the 
honour  of  his  house. 

This  delay  gave  rise  to  suspicion,  and  Bridgenorth's 
eve  gleamed,  and  his  lip  quivered,  while  he  gave  vent  to 


232  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

it.  "  Hark  ye,  young  man — deal  openly  with  me  in  this 
matter,  if  you  would  not  have  me  think  you  the  execra- 
ble villain  who  would  have  seduced  an  unhappy  girl, 
under  promises  which  he  never  designed  to  fulfil.  Let 
me  but  suspect  this,  and  you  shall  see,  on  the  spot,  llow 
far  your  pride  and  your  pe  ligree  will  preserve  you 
against  the  just  vengeance  of  a  father,"' 

"  You  do  me  wrong1'  said  Peveril — "  you  do  me  in- 
finite wrong,  Major  Bridgenorth.  I  am  incapable  of  the 
infamy  which  you  allude  to.  The  proposal  I  made  to 
your  daughter  was  as  sincere  as  ever  was  offered  by  man 
to  woman.  I  only  hesitated,  because  you  think  it  neces- 
sary to  examine  me  so  very  closely  ;  and  to  possess  your- 
self of  all  my  purposes  and  sentiments,  in  their  fullest 
extent,  without  explaining  to  me  the  tendency  of  your 
own." 

"  Your  proposal,  then,  shapes  itself  thus,"  said  Bridge- 
north  :  '•  You  are  willing  tolead  my  only  child  into  exile 
from  her  native  country,  to  give  her  a  claim  to  kindness 
and  protection  from  your  family,  which  you  know  will 
be  disregarded,  on  condition  1  consent  to  bestow  her 
hand  on  you,  with  a  fortune  sufficient  to  have  matched 
that  of  your  ancestors,  when  they  had  most  reason  to 
boast  of  their  we  »lth.  This,  young  man,  seems  no  equal 
bargain.  And  yet,1'  he  continued,  after  a  momentary 
pause,  "  so  little  do  I  value  the  goods  of  this  world,  that 
it  might  not  be  utterly  beyond  thy  power  to  reconcile  me 
to  the  match  which  you  have  proposed  to  me,  however 
unequal  it  may  appear." 

•■  Show  me  but  the  means  which  can  propitiate  your 
Hw>ur,  Major  Bridgenorth, "  said  Perveril, — a  for  F 
will  not  doubt  that  they  will  be  consistent  with^ny  ho- 
nour and  duty,— and  you  shall  soon  see  how  eagerly  I 
will  obey  your  directions,  or  submit  to  you  conditions'.'* 

"  They  are  summed  in  tew  words,"  answered  Bridge- 
north.  •'  Be  an  honest  man,  and  the  friend  of  your 
country." 

"  No  one  has  ever  doubled,"  replied  Peveril,  "  that  I 
urn  both." 

•  Pardon  me,"  repb<  d  the  Major;  i{  no  one  has,  as 
yet,  seen  you  show  youystdf  either.     Interrupt  me  noi*-^ 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  233 

I  question  not  your  will  to  be  both  ;  but  you  have  hither- 
to neither  had  the  light  nor  the  opportunity  necessary  for 
the  display  of  your  principles,  or  the  service  of  your 
country.  You  have  lived  when  an  apathy  of  mind,  suc- 
ceeding to  the  agitations  of  the  Civil  War,  had  made 
men  indifferent  to  state  affairs,  and  more  willing  to  cul- 
tivate their  own  ease  than  to  stand  in  the  gap  when  the 
Lord  was  pleading  with  Israel.  But  we  are  English- 
men ;  and  with  us  such  unnatural  lethargy  cannot  con- 
tinue long.  Already,  many  of  those  who  most  desired 
the  return  of  Charles  Stuart,  regard  him  as  a  King  whom 
Heaven,  importuned*  by  our  entreaties,  gave  to  us  in 
His  anger.  His  unlimited  license — an  example  so  readi- 
ly followed  by  the  young  and  the  gay  around  him — has 
disgusted  the  minds  of  all  sober  and  thinking  men.  I 
had  not  now  held  conference  with  you  in  this  intimate 
fashion,  were  I  not  aware  that  you,  Master  Julian,  were 
free  from  such  stain  of  the  times.  Heaven,  that  rendered 
the  King's  course  of  license  fruitful,  hath  denied  issue  to 
his  bed  of  wedlock  ;  and  in  the  gloomy  and  stern  cha- 
racter of  his  bigoted  successor,  we  already  see  what  sort 
of  monarch  shall  succeed  to  the  crown  of  England.  This 
is  a  critical  period,  at  which  it  necessarily  becomes  the 
duty  of  all  men  to  step  forward,  each  in  his  degree,  and 
aid  in  rescuing  the  country  which  gave  us  birth."  Pe- 
veril  remembered  the  warning  which  he  had  received 
from  Alice,  and  bent  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  without  re- 
turning any  reply.  "  How  is  it,  young  man,"  continu- 
ed Bridgenorth,  after  a  pause  ;  "  so  young  as  thou  art. 
and  bound  by  no  ties  of  kindred  profligacy  with  the  ene- 
mies of  your  country,  can  you  be  already  hardened  to  the 
claims  she  may  form  on  you  at  this  crisis  V 

14  It  were  easy  to  answer  you  generally.  Major  Bridge- 
north/'  replied  Peveril — "  It  were  easy  to  say  that  my 
country  cannot /nake  a  claim  on  me  which  1  will  not 
promptly  answer  at  the  risk  of  lands  and  life.  But  in 
dealing  thus  generally,  we  should  but  deceive  each  oth- 
er. What  is  the  nature  of  this  call?  By  whom  is  it  to  he 
sounded  ?  And  what  are  to  be  the  results  ?  for  I  think  you 
fea.e  already  seen  enough  of  the  evils  of  civil  war,  to  be 
20* 

- 


234  JPEVERIE    OF    THE    PEAK, 

wary  of  again  awakening  its  terrors  in  a  peaceful  and- 
bappy  country. 

£k  They  that  are  drenched  with  poisonous  narcotics," 
said  the  Major,  "  must  be  awakened  by  their  physicians, 
though  it  were  with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet.  Better 
that  men  should  die  bravely,  with  their  arms  in  their 
hands,  like  free-born  Englishmen,  than  that  they  should 
slide  into  the  bloodless  but  dishonoured  grave  which 
slavery  opens  for  its  vassals — But  it  is  not  of  war  that  I 
was  about  to  speak,"  he  added,  assuming  a  milder  tone. 
li  The  evils  of  which  England  now  complains,  are  such 
as  can  be  remedied  by  the  wholesome  administration  of 
her  own  laws,  even  in  the  state  in  which  they  are  still 
suffered  to  exist.  Have  these  laws  not  a  right  to  -the  sup- 
port of  every  individual  who  lives  under  them?  Have 
they  not  a  right  to  yours  ?" 

As  he  seemed  to  pause  for  an  answer,  Peveril  replied, 
"  I  have  to  learn.  Major  Bridgenorth,  how  the  laws  of 
England  have  become  so  far  weakened  as  to  require  such 
support  as  mine.  When  that  is  made  plain  to  me,  no 
man  will  more  willingly  discharge  the  duty  of  a  faithful 
liegeman  to  the  law  as  well  as  the  King.  But  the  laws 
of  England  are  under  the  guardianship  of  upright  and 
learned  judges,  and  of  a  gracious  monarch." 

';  And  of  a  House  of  Com  uons,"  interrupted  Bridge- 
north,  "  no  longer  bloating  upon  restored  monarchy,  but 
awakened,  as  with  a  peal  of  thunder,  to  the  perilous 
state  of  our  religion,  and  of  our  freedom.  I  appeal  to 
your  own  conscience,  Julian  Peveril,  whether  this  awa- 
kening hath  not  been  in  time,  since  you  yourself  know? 
aiid  none  better  than  you.  the  secret  but  rapid  strides 
which  Rome  has  made  to  erect  her  Dagon  of  idolatry 
within  our  Protestant  land." 

Here  Julian  seeing,  or  thinking  he  saw,  the  drift  of 
Bridgenorth  s  suspicions,  hastened  to  exculpate  himself 
from  the  suspicion  of  favouring  the  Roman*  Catholic 
religion.  "  ft  is  true."  he  said,  "  I  have  been  educated 
in  a  family  where  that  faith  is  professed  by  one  honoured 
individual,  and  that  I  have  since  travelled  in  popish 
itries  ;  but  even  for  these   very  reasons,  I  have  seen 

opery   too  closely  to  be  friendly    to  its  tenets.     The 


' 


X 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK,  13j 


bigotry  of  the  laymen — the  persevering  arts  of  the 
priesthood — the  perpetual  intrigue  for  the  extension  of 
the  forms  without  the  spirit  of  religion — the  usurpation 
of  that  church  over  the  consciences  of  men — and  her 
impious  pretensions  to  infallibility,  are  as  inconsistent  wi 
my  mind  as  they  can  seem  in  yours,  with  common  sense, 
rational  liberty,  freedom  of  conscience,  and  pure  reli- 
gion.'7 

"  Spoken  like  the  son  of  your  excellent  mother,"  said 
Bridgenorth,  grasping-  his  hand  ;  '*  for  whose  sake  I  have 
endured  to  suffer  so  much  from  your  house  unrequited, 
even  when  the  means  of  requital  were  in  my  own  hand." 
"It  was  indeed  from  the  instructions  of  that  excellent 
parent,"  said  Peveril.  •' that  I  was  enabled,  in  my  early 
youth,  to  resist  and  repel  the  insidious  attacks  made  upon 
mv  religious  faith  by  the  Catholic  priests  into  whose 
company  I  was  necessarily  thrown.  Like  her,  I  trust  to 
live  and  die  in  the  faith  of  the  reformed  Church  of 
England." 

'•  The  Church  of  England,"   said  Bridcrenorth,  drop- 
ping his  young  friend's  hand,  but  presently  resuming  it: 
"Alas!   that  church,  as  now  constituted,  usurps  scarcely 
less   than   Rome    herself  upon  men's  consciences  and  li- 
berties ;  yet  out  of  the  weakness   of  tins    half-reforn  ed 
church,  may  God  he  pleased  to  work  out  deliverance  to 
England,  and  praise  to  Himself.     I  must  not  forget,  that 
one  whose   services  have  been  in  the  cause  incalculable, 
wears  the  garb  of  an  English  priest,  and  hath  had  Epis- 
copal  ordination.     It    is  not  for  us  to  challenge   the  in- 
strument, so  that  our  escape  is  achieved  'from  the  ret  of 
the  fowler.     Enough,  that  I  find  thee  not  as  yet  enlight- 
ened with  the  purer   doctrine,  but  prepared  to  profi    by 
it  when  the  spark   shall   reach    thee.      Enough,  in  espe- 
cial,   that    I    find  thee  willing  to  uplift  thy  testimony.^  to 
cry  aloud  and  spare  not  against  the  errors  and  arts  of  the 
Church  of  Rome.      But  remember,  what  thou  hast  now 
said  thou  wilt  soon  be  called  upon  to  justify,  in  a  manner 
the  most  solemn — the  most  awful." 

"  V\  hat  I  have    said,"  replied  Julian  Peveril,  "  being 
the' unbiassed  sentiments  of  my  heart,  shall,   upon   no 


236  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

proper  occasion  want  the  support  of  my  open  avowal ; 
an  1  I  think  it  strange  you  should  doubt  me  so  far.'' 

"  1  doubt  thee  not,  my  young  friend, ?'  said  Bridge- 
north  ;  "  and  I  trust  to  see  thy  name  rank  high  amongst 
those  by  whom  the  prey  shall  be  rent  from  the  mighty. 
At  present,  thy  prejudices  occupy  thy  mind  like  the 
strong  keeper  of  the  house  mentioned  in  Scripture.  But 
there  shall  come  a  stronger  than  he,  and  make  forcible 
entry,  displaying  on  the  battlements  that  sign  of  faith 
in  which  alone  there  is  found  salvation. — Watch,  hope, 
and  pray,  that  the  hour  may  come.'' 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  which  was  first 
broken  by  Peveril.  "  You  have  spoken  to  me  in  rid- 
dles, Major  Bridgenorth;  and  I  have  asked  you  for  no 
explanation.  Listen  to  a  caution  on  my  part,  given 
with  the  most  sincere  good  will.  Hear  a  hint  of  mine, 
and  believe  it,  though  it  is  darkly  expressed.  You  are 
here — at  least  are  believed  to  be  here — on  an  errand 
dangerous  to  the  Lord  of  the  Island.  That  danger  will 
be  retorted  on  yourself,  if  you  make  Man  long  your 
place  of  residence.     Be  warned,  and  depart  in  time." 

"  And  leave  my  daughter  to  the  guardianship  of  Ju- 
lian Peveril  ?  Runs  not  your  counsel  so,  young  man  ?" 
answered  Bridgenorth.  "  Trust  my  safety,  Julian,  to 
my  own  prudence.  1  hive  been  accustomed  to  guide 
myself  through  worse  dangers  than  now  environ  me. 
But  1  thank  you  for  your  caution,  which  I  am  willing  to 
believe  was  at  least  partly  disinterested." 

"  We  do  not,  then,  part  in  anger?"  said  Peveril. 

"  Not  in  ang'er,  my  sou,''  said  Bridgenorth,  "  but  in 
love  and  strong  affection.  For  my  daughter,  thou  must 
forb  Mr  every  thought  of  seeing  her,  save  through  me. 
I  accept  not  thy  suit,,  neither  do  1  reject  it;  only  this  I 
intimate  to  you,  that  tie  who  would  be  my  son,  must  tirst 
show  himself  the  true  and  loving  child  of  his  oppressed 
and  deluded  country.  Farewell ;  do  not  answer  me 
now,  thuu  art  yet  in  the  gall  of  bitterness,  and  it  may  be 
that  strife  (which  I  desire  not)  should  fall  between  us. 
Thou  ^halt  hear  of  me  sooner  than  thou  thinkest  for." 

He  shook  Peveril  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  again  bid 
him  farewell,  leaving  him  under  the  confused  and  min- 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  23 


A 


gled  impression  of  pleasure,  doubt,  and  wonder.  Not 
a  little  surprised  to  tind  himself  so  far  in  the  good  graces 
of  Alice's  father,  that  his  suit  was  even  favoured  with  a 
sort  of  negative  encouragement,  he  could  not  help  sus- 
pecting, as  wel|  from  the  language  of  the  daughter,  as  of 
the  father,  that  Bridgenorth  was  desirous,  as  the  price 
of  his  favour,  he  should  adopt  some  line  of  conduct  in- 
consistent with  the  principles  in  which  he  had  been 
educated. 

'•  You  need  not  fear,  Alice,"  he  said  in  his  heart ; 
"  not  even  your  hand  would  I  purchase  b*  aught  which 
resembled  unworthy  or  truckling  compliance  with  te- 
nets which  my  heart  disowns  ;  and  well  I  know,  were  I 
mean  enough  to  do  so,  even  the  authority  of  thy  father 
were  insufficient  to  compel  thee  to  the  ratification  of  so 
mean  a  bargain.  But  let  me  hope  better  things.  Bridge- 
north,  though  strdrig-minded  and  sagacious,  is  haunted 
by  the  fears  of  Popery,  which  are  the  bugbears  of  his 
sect.  My  residence  in  the  family  of  the  Countess  of 
Derby,  is  more  than  enough  to  inspire  him  with  suspi- 
cions of  my  faith,  from  which,  thank  heaven,  I  can  vin- 
dicate myself  with  truth  and  ^.ood  conscience." 

So  thinking,  he  again  adjusted  the  gir'hs  of  his  palfrey, 
replaced  the  bit  which  he  had  slipped  out  of  its  mouth, 
that  it  might  feed  at  liberty,  and  mounting,  pursued  his 
way  back  to  the  Castle  of  Holm-Peel,  where  he  could 
not  help  fearing  that  something  extraordinary  might 
have  happened  in  his  absence. 

But  the  old  pile  soon  rose  before  him,  serene  and 
sternly  still,  amid  the  sleeping  ocean,  The  banner, 
which  indicated  that  the  Lord  of  Man  held  residence 
within  its  ruinous  precincts,  hung  motionless  by  the  en- 
sign-staff. The  sentinels  walked  to  and  fro  on  their 
posts,  and  hummed  or  whistled  their  Manx  airs.  Leav- 
ing his  faithful  companion,  Fairy,  in  the  village  as  be- 
fore, Julian  entered  the  Castle,  and  found  at]  within  in 
the  same  st  ite  of  quietness  and  good  order  which  exter- 
nal appearances  had  announced. 


238  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


'Now  rede  me,  rede  me,  brother  dear. 

Throughout  merry   England, 
"Where  will  I  fi  id  a  messenger, 

Betwixt  us  two  to  send. 

Ballad  of  King  Est  mere. 


Julian's  first  rencounter,  after  re-entering  the  Cas- 
tle, was  with  its  young  Lord,  who  received  him  with  hie 
usual  kindness  and  lightness  of  humour. 

"  Thrice  welcome,  Sir  Knight  of  Dames,"  said  the 
Earl  ;  u  here  you  rove  gallantly,  and  at  free  will,  through 
our  dominions,  fulfilling  of  appointments,  and  achieving 
amorous  adventures;  while  we  are  condemned  to  sit  in 
our  royal  halls,  as  dull  and  immoveable  as  if  our  Majesty 
was  carved  on  the  stern  of  some  Manx  smuggling  dog- 
ger, and  christened  the  King  Arthur  of  Ramsay,'' 

"  Nay,  in  that  case  you  would  take  the  sea,"  said  Ju- 
lian, "  and  so  enjoy  travel  and  adventure  enough." 

"  Oh,  but  suppose  me  wind-bound,  or  detained  in 
harbour  by  a  revenue  pink,  or  ashore,  if  you  like  it,  and 
lying  high  and  dry  upon  the  sand.  Imagine  the  royal 
image  in  the  dullest  of  all  predicaments,  and  you  have 
not  equalled  mine." 

"  1  am  happy  to  hear,  at  least,  that  you  have  had  no 
disagreeable  e  nployment,"  said  Julian;  *'  the  morning's 
alarm  has  blown  over,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  In  faith  it  has,  Julian  ;  and  our  close  inquiries  can- 
not find  any  cause  for  the  apprehended  insurrection. — 
That  Brid^enorth  is  in  the  island  seems  certain;  but 
private  affairs  of  consequence  are  alleged  as  the  cause 
of  his  visit;  and  I  am  not  desirous  to  have  him  arrested 
unless  I  could  prove  some  mal-practices  against  him  and 
his  companions.  In  fact,  it  would  stem  we  had  taken 
the  alarm  too  soon.  My  mother  speaks  of  consulting 
you  on  the  subject,  Julian ;  and  I  will  not  anticipate  her 


PEVERIL  OF  THE   PEAK.  239 

solemn  communication.  It  will  be  partly  apolegetical, 
I  suppose;  for  we  begin  to  think  our  retreat  rather  un- 
royal, and  that,  like  the  wicked,  we  have  fled  when  no 
man  pur-ued.  This  idea  afflicts  my  mother,  who,  as  a 
Queen-Dowager,  a  Queen- Regent,  a  heroine,  and  a  wo- 
man in  general,  would  be  extremely  mortified  to  think 
that  her  precipitate  retreat  hither  had  exposed  her  to 
the  ridicule  of  'lie  islanders;  and  -he  is  disconcerted, 
a  id  out  of  humour,  accordingly.  In  the  meanwhile,  my 
sole  amusement  has  been  the  grimaces  and  fantastic 
gestures  of  that  ape  Fenella,  who  is  more  out  of  humour, 
and  more  absurd,  in  consequence,  than  you  ever  saw 
ru"r.  Morris  says,  it  is  because  you  pushed  her  down 
stars.  Julian — how  is  that  ?" 

"  Nay,  Morris  has  misreported  me,5'  answered  Juli- 
an ;  "  I  did  but  lift  her  up  stairs  to  be  rid  of  her  impor- 
tunity ;  for  she  chose,  in  her  way,  to  contest  my  going 
abroad  in  such  an  obstinate  manner,  that  I  had  no  other 
mode  of  getting  rid  of  her." 

"  She  must  have  supposed  your  departure,  at  a  mo- 
ment so  cruicai,  was  dangerons  to  the  state  of  our  g  r- 
rison,''  answered  the  Earl  ;  "  it  shows  how  dearly  she 
esteems  my  mother's  safety,  and  how  highly  she  rates 
your  prowess. — But,  thank  Heaven,  there  sounds  the 
dinner-bell.  I  would  the  philosophers,  who  hind  a  ?in 
and  waste  of  time  in  good  cheer,  could  devise  us  any 
pastime  half  so  agreeable." 

The  meal  which  the  young  Earl  had  thus  longed  for, 
as  a  means  of  ridding  him  tor  a  space  of  the  time 
which  hung  heavy  on  his  hands,  was  soon  over ;  as 
soon,  at  least,  as  the  habitual  and  stately  formality  of 
the  Countess's  household  permitted.  She  herself,  ac- 
companied by  her  gentlewoman  and  attendants,  retir- 
ed early  after  the  tables  were  left  to  their  own  company* 
Wine  had,  for  the  moment,  no  charms  for  either;  ior 
the  Earl  was  out^  of  spirits  from  ennui  and  impatience 
of  his  monotonous  and  solitary  course  of  life  ;  and 
the  events  of  the  day  had  given  Peveril  too  much  mat- 
ter for  reflection  to  permit  his  starting  amusing  or  inter- 
esting topics  of  conversation.  After  having  passed  the 
flask  in  silence  betwixt  them  once  or  twice,  they  with- 


240  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

drew  each  into  a  separate  embrazure  of  the  window* 
of  the  dining  apartment,  which,  such  was  the  extreme 
thickness  of  the  wall,  were  deep  enough  to  afford  a  soli- 
tary recess,  separated,  as  it  were,  from  the  chamber  it- 
self. In  one  of  these  sate  the  Earl  of  Derby,  busied 
in  looking  over  some  of  the  new  publications  which  had 
been  forwarded  from  London  ;  and  at  intervals  confes- 
sing how  little  power  or  interest  these  had  for  him,  by 
yawning  fearfully  as  he  looked  out  on  the  solitary  ex- 
panse of  waters,  which,  save  for  the  flight  of  a  flock  of 
sea-gulls,  or  of  a  solitary  cormorant,  offered  so  little  of 
variety  to  engage  his  attention. 

Peveril,  on  his  part,  held  a  pamphlet  also  in  his  hand, 
without  giving,  or  affecting  to  give  it,  even  his  occasion- 
al  attention.     His  whole  soul  turned   upon  the  inter- 
view which  he  had  that  day  with  Alice  Bridgenorth, 
and  with  her  father ;  while  he  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
form  an)    hypothesis  which   could  explain  to  him  why 
the  daughter,  to  whom  he  had    no  reason  to  think  him- 
self indifferent,  should   have  been  so  suddenly  desirous 
of  their  eternal  separation,  while  her  father,  whose  op- 
position he  so  much  dreaded,  seemed  to  be  at  least  tole- 
rant of  his  addresses.     He  could  only  suppose,  in  ex- 
planation,   that  Major    Bridgenorth  had  some   plan  in 
prospect,  which   it  was  in  his  own  power  to  further  or 
impede  ;   while  from  the  demeanour,   and  indeed  the 
language  of  Alice,  he  had   but  too  much  reason  to  ap- 
prehend that  her  father's' favour  could  only  be  concilia- 
ted bv  something,  on  his  own  part,  approaching  to  de- 
reliction of  principle.      But  by  no  conjecture  which  he 
could  form,  could  he  mike  the  least  guess   concerning 
the    nature   of  that  compliance    of  which   Bridgenorth 
seemed  desirous.    He  could  not  imagine,  notwithstand- 
ing Alice  had  spoken    of   treachery,  that  her  father 
would    dare  to  propose  to  him   uniting  in  any  plan  by 
which  the  safety  of  the  Countess,  or  the  security  of 
her  little  kingdom  of   Man.     was  to  be    endangered. 
This  carried  such   indelible  disgrace  in  t\\e  front,   that 
he  could  not  suppose    the  scheme  proposed  to    by  any 
who  was   not  prepared  to  defend  with  his  s?vord,  upon 
the  spot,   a  flagrant  insult  offered  to  his  honour.     And 


PEVERIL  OR  THE  PEAK.  2.41 

such  a  proceeding  was  totally  inconsistent  with  the  con- 
duct of  M^jorBridgenorthin  every  other  respect  ;  be- 
sides his  being  too  calm  and  cool-blooded  to  permit  of 
his  putting  a  mortal  affront  upon  the  son  of  his  old  neigh- 
bour, to  whose  mother  he  confessed  so  much  of  obliga- 
tion 

While  Peveril  in  vain  endeavoured  to  extract  some- 
thing like  a  probable  theory  out  of  the  hints  thrown  out 
by  the  father  and  the  daughter — not  without  the  addi- 
tional and  lover-like  labour  of  endeavouring  to  recon- 
cile his  passion  to  his  honour  and  conscience — he  felt 
something  gently  pull  him  by  the  cloak.  He  unclasped 
his  arms,  which,  in  meditation,  had  been  folded  on  his 
bosom  ;  and  withdrawing  his  eyes  from  the  vacant  pros- 
pect of  sea-coast  and  sea  which  they  had  perused,  with- 
out much  consciousness  upon  what  they  rested,  he  be- 
held beside  him  the  little  dumb  maiden,  the  elfin  Fe- 
nella.  She  was  seated  on  a  low  cushion  or  stool,  with 
which  she  had  nestled  close  to  Peyeril's  side,  and  had 
remained  there  for  a  short  space  of  time,  expecting,  no 
doubt,  he  would  become  conscious  of  her  presence  ;  un- 
til, tired  of  remaining  unnoticed,  she  at  length  soliciiecl 
his  attention  in  the  manner  which  we  have  described. 
Startled  out  of  his  reverie  by  this  intimation  of  her 
presence,  he  looked  down,  and  could  not.  without  inte- 
rest, behold  this  singular  and  helpless  being. 

H$r  hair  was  unloosened,  and  streamed  over  her  shoul- 
ders in  such  length,  that  much  of  it  lay  upon  the  ground, 
and  in  such  quantity,  that  it  formed  a  dark  veil,  or  sha- 
dow, not  only  round  her  face  but  over  her  whole  slender 
and  minute  form.  From  the  profusion  of  her  tresses 
looked  forth  her  small  and  dark,  but  well-formed  fea- 
tures, together  with  the  large  and  brilliant  black  eyes ; 
and  her  whole  countenance  was  composed  into  the  im- 
ploring look  of  one  who  is  dubious  of  the  reception  she 
is  about  to  meet  with  from  a  valued  friend,  while  she 
confesses  a  fault  pleads  an  apology,  or  solicits  a  recon- 
ciliation. In  short,  the  whole  face  was  so  much  alive 
with  expression,  that  Julian,  though  her  aspect  was  so 
familiar  to  him,  could  hardly  persuade  himself  but  what 
her  eountenance  was  entirely  new.  The  wild,  fantastic, 
Vol.  I.  21 


242  PEVEE.IL  OF  THE  PEAK, 

elvish  vivacity  of  the  features  seemed  totally  vanished, 
and  had  given  place  to  a  sorrowful,  tender,  and  pathetic 
cast  of  countenance,  aided  by  the  expression  of  the  large 
dark  eyes,  which  as  they  were  turned  up  towards  Julian, 
glistened  with  moisture,  that,  nevertheless,  did  not  over- 
flow the  eyelids. 

Conceiving  that  her  unwonted  manner  arose  from  a 
recollection  of  the  dispute  which  had  taken  place  betwixt 
them  this  morning,  Peveril  was  anxious  to  restore  the 
little  maiden's  gaiety,  by  making  her  sensible  that  there 
dwelt  on  his  mind  no  unpleasing  recollection  of  their 
quarrel.  He  smiled  kindly,  and  shook  her  hand  in  one 
of  his  ;  while,  with  the  familiarity  of  one  who  had  known 
her  from  childhood,  he  stroked  down  her  long  dark  tres- 
ses with  the  other.  She  stooped  her  head,  as  if  asham- 
ed, and,  at  the  same  time,  gratified  with  his  caresses — 
and  he  was  thus  induced  to  continue  them,  until,  under 
the  veil  of  her  rich  and  abundant  locks  he  suddenly  felt 
his  other  hand,  which  she  still  held  fast  in  hers,  slightly 
touched  with  her  lips,  and,  at  the  same  time,  moistened 
with  a  tear. 

At  once,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  danger  of 
being  misinterpreted  in  his  familiarity  with  a  creature  to 
whom  the  usual  modes  of  explanation  were  a  blank,  oc- 
curred to  Julian's  mind ;  and  hastily  withdrawing  his 
hand,  and  phangmg  his  posture,  he  asked  of  her,  by  a 
sign  which  custom  had  rendered  familiar,  whether  she 
brought  any  message  to  him  from  the  Countess.  In  an 
instant  Fenella,s  whole  deportment  was  changed.  She 
started  up,  and  arranged  herself  in  her  seat  with  the  ra- 
pidity of  lightning  ;  and  at  the  same  moment,  with  one 
turn  of  her  hand,  braided  her  length  of  locks  into  a  na- 
tural head-dress  of  the  most  beautiful  kind.  There  was, 
indeed,  when  she  looked  up.  a  blush  still  visible  on  her 
dark  features  ;  but  their  melancholy  and  languid  expres- 
sion had  given  place  to  that  of  wild  and  unsettled  viva- 
city, which  was  most  common  to  them.  Her  eyes  glanced 
with  more  than  their  wonted  fire,  and  her  glances  were 
more  piercingly  wild  and  unsettled  than  usual.  To  Ju- 
lian's inquiry,  she  answered,  by  laying  her  hand  on  her 
heart — a  motion  by   which    she  alwavs   indicated  the 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  243 

Countess — and  rising,  and  taking  the  direction  of  her 
apartment,  she  made  a  sign  to  Julian  to  follow  her. 

The  distance  was  not  great  betwixt  the  dining  apart- 
ment and  that  to  which  Peveril  now  followed  his  mute 
guide ;  yet,  in  going  thither,  he  had  time  enough  to  suf- 
fer cruelly  fro  n  the  sudden  suspicion  that  this  unhappy 
girl  had  misinterpreted  the  uniform  kindness  with  which 
he  had  treated  her.  and  hence  come  to  regard  him  with 
feelings  more  tender  than  those  which  belong  to  friend- 
ship. The  misery  which  such  a  passion  was  like  to  oc- 
casion to  a  creature  in  her  helpless  situation,  and  actuat- 
ed by  such  lively  feelings,  was  great  enough  to  make 
him  refuse  credit  to  the  suspicion  which  pressed  itself 
upon  his  mind ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  formed  the 
internal  resolution  so  to  conduct  himself  towards  Fenel- 
la,  as  to  check  such  misplaced  sentiments,  if  indeed  she 
unhappily  entertained  them  towards  him. 

When  they  reached  the  C  >untess's  apartment,  they 
found  her  with  writing  implements,  and  many  sealed  let- 
ters, before  her.  She  received  Julian  with  her  usual 
kindness  ;  and  having  caused  him  to  be  seated,  beckoned 
to  the  mute  to  resume  her  needle.  In  an  instant  Fenella 
was  seated  at  an  embroidering-frame  ;  where,  but  for  the 
movement  of  her  dexterous  fingers,  she  might  have  seem- 
ed a  statue,  so  little  did  she  move  from  her  work,  either 
head  or  eye.  As  her  infirmity  rendered  her  presence  no 
bar  to  the  most  confidential  conversation,  the  Countess 
proceeded  to  address  Peveril  as  if  they  had  bee,n  literally 
alone  together.  ''Julian,1'  she  said.  "I  am  not  now 
about  to  complain  to  you  of  the  sentiments  and  conduct 
of  Derby.  He  is  your  friend — he  is  my  son.  He  has 
kindness  of  heart,  and  vivacity  of  talent;  and  yet " 

*?  Dearest  lady,''  said  Peveril.  "  why  will  you  distress 
yourself  with  fixing  your  eye  on  deficiencies  which  arise 
rather  from  a  change  of  times  and  manners,  than  any  de- 
generacy of  my  noble  friend?  Let  him  be  once  engaged 
in  his  duty,  whether  in  peace  or  war,  and  let  me  pay  the 
penalty  if  he  acquits  not  himself  becoming  his  high  sta- 
tion." 

"  Ay,"  replied  the  Countess  ;  "  but  when  will  the  call 
of  duty  prove  superior  to  that  of  the  most  idle  or  trivial 


244  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK* 

indulgence  which  can  serve  to  drive  over  the  lazy  hour  f 
His  father  was  of  another  mould  ;  and  how  often  was  it 
my  lot  to  entreat  that  he  would  spare,  from  the  rigid  dis- 
charge of  those  duties  which  his  high  station  imposed, 
the  relaxation  necessary  to  recruit  his  health  and  his  spi- 
rits. " 

"  Still,  my  dearest  lady,"  said  Peveril,  "  you  must  al- 
low that  the  duties  to  which  the  times  summoned  your  late 
honoured  lord,  were  of  a  more  stirring,  as  well  as  a  more 
peremptory  cast,  than  those  which  await  your  son." 

•'I  know  not  that,"  said  the  Countess.  "  The  wheel 
appears  to  be  again  revolving;  and  the  present  period  is 
not  unlikely  to  bring  back  such  scenes  as  my  younger 
years  witnessed.  -  Well,  be  it  so ;  they  will  not  find 
Charlotte  de  la  Tremouille  broken  in  spirit,  though  de- 
pressed by  years.  It  was  even  on  this  subject  I  would 
speak  with  you,  my  young  friend.  Since  our  first  early 
acquaintance — when  I  saw  your  gallant  behaviour  as  I 
issued  forth  to  your  childish  eye  like  an  apparition,  from 
my  place  of  concealment  in  your  father's  castle — it  has 
pleased  me  to  think  you  a  true  son  of  Stanley  and  Peve- 
ril. I  trust  your  nurture  in  this  family  has  been  ever 
suited  to  the  esteem  in  which  I  hold  you  Nay,  I  desire 
no  thanks — I  have  to  require  of  you.  in  return,  a  piece  of 
service,  not  perhaps  entirely  safe  to  yourself,  but  which, 
as  times  are  circumstanced,  no  person  is  so  well  able  to 
render  to  my  house." 

"  You  have  been  ever  my  good  and  noble  lady,"  an- 
swered Peveril,  •'  as  well  as  my  kind,  and  1  may  say  ma- 
ternal, protectress.  You  have  a  right  to  command  the 
blood  of  Stanley  in  the  veins  of  every  one — you  have  a 
thousand  rights  to  command  it  in  mine." 

"My  advices  from  England,"  said  the  Countess,  "  re- 
semble more  the  dreams  of  a  sick  man.  than  the  regular 
information  which  I  might  have  expected  from  such  cor- 
respondents as  mine; — their  expressions  are  like  those  of 
men  who  walk  in  their  sleep,  and  speak  by  snatches  of 
what  passes  in  their  dreams.  It  is  said,  a  plot,  real  or 
fictitious,  has  been  detected  amongst  the  Catholics,  which 
has  spread  far  wider,  and  more  uncontrollable  terror, 
than  that  of  the  fifth  of  November.     Its  outlines  seem 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  2A5 

utterly  incredible,  and  are  only  supported  by  the  evidence 
of  wretches,  the  meanest  and  most  worthless  in  the  crea- 
tion;  yet  it  is  received  by  the  credulous  people  of  Eng- 
land with  the  most  undoubting  credulity." 

"This  is  a  singular  delusion,  to  rise  without  some  real 
ground, ,?  answered  Julian. 

"  I  am  no  bigot,  cousin,  though  a  Catholic,"  replied 
the  Countess.     "  I  have  long  feared  that  the  well-meant 
zeal  of  our  priests  for  increasing  converts,  would  draw  on 
them  the  suspicion  of  the  English  nation.     These  efforts 
have  been  renewed  with  double  energy  since  the  Duke  of 
York   conformed  to  the  Catholic  faith  ;   and  the  same 
event  has  doubled  the  hate  and  jealousy  of  the  Protes- 
tants.    So  far,  I  fear,  there  may  be  just  cause  for  suspi- 
cion, that  the  Duke  is  a  better  Catholic  than  an  English- 
man, and  that  bigotry  has  involved  him,  as  avarice,  or 
the  needy  greed  of  a  prodigal,  has  engaged  his  brother, 
in  relations  with   France,  whereof  England   may  have 
too    much   reason   to  complain.     But   the  gross,  thick, 
and  palpable  falsehoods    of    conspiracy    and    murder, 
blood    and   fire — the  imaginary  armies — the  intended 
massacres — from  a    collection    of  falsehoods,  that  one 
would  have  thought  indigestible,  even  by  the   coarse 
appetite  of  the  vulgar  for  the  marvellous  and  horrible  : 
but  which  are  nevertheless,    received  as  truth  bv  both 
Houses  of  Parliament,  and  questioned  by  no  one  who 
is  desirous  to  escape  the  odious  appellation  of  friend  to 
the    bloody   Papists,    and    favourer   of  their   infernal 
schemes  of  cruelty. " 

"  But  what  say  those  who  are  most  likely  to  be  affec- 
ted by  these  wild  reports?"  said  Julian.  "  What  says 
the  English  Catholics  themselves  ? — a  numerous  and 
wealthy  body,  comprising  so  many  noble  names  V 

"  Their  hearts  are  dead  within  them,"  said  the  Coun- 
tess. "  They  are  like  sheep  penned  up  in  the  sham- 
bles, that  the  butcher  may  take  his  choice  among  them. 
In  the  obscure  and  brief  communications  which  I  have 
had  by  a  secure  hand,  they  do  but  anticipate  their  own 
utter  ruin,  and  ours — so  general  is  the  depression,  so 
universal  the  despair." 


246  PEVERIL    OR  THE  PEAK. 

""But  the  King,"  said  Peveril, — "  the  King  and  the 
Protestant  royalists — what  say  they  to  this  growing 
tempest?" 

"  Charles,"  replied  the  Countess,  "  with  his  usual 
selfish  prudence,  truckles  to  the  storm  ;  and  will  let 
cord  and  axe  do  their  work  on  the  most  innocent  men 
in  his  dominions,  rather  than  lose  an  hour  of  pleasure 
in  attempting  their  rescue.  And,  for  the  royalists,  ei- 
ther they  have  caught  the  general  delirium  which  has 
seized  on  Protestants  in  general,  or  they  stand  aloof 
and  neutral,  afraid  to  sh>  w  any  interest  in  the  unhappy 
Catholics,  lest  they  be  judged  altogether  such  as  them- 
selves, and  abettors  of  the  fearful  conspiracy  in  which 
they  are  alleged  to  be  engaged.  In  fact,  I  cannot 
blame  them.  It  is  hard  tu  expect  that  mere  compas- 
sion for  a  persecuted  sect — or,  what  is  yet  more  rare, 
an  abstract  love  of  justice — should  be  powerful  enough 
to  engage  men  to  expose  themselves  to  the  awakened 
fury  of  a  whole  people  ;  for,  in  the  present  state  of  agi- 
tation, whoever  disbelieves  the  least  tittle  of  the  enor- 
mous improbabilities  which  have  been  accumulated  by 
these  wretched  informers,  is  instantly  hunted  down,  as 
one  who  would  smother  the  discovery  of  the  plot.  It 
is  indeed  an  awful  tempest ;  and  remote  as  we  lie 
from  its  sphere,  we  must  expect  soon  to  feel  its  effects.'5 

"  Lord  Derby  already  told  me  something  of  this,'- 
said  Julian  ;  "  and  that  there  were  agents  in  this  island 
whose  object  was  to  excite  insurrection." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Countess,  and  her  eye  flashed 
fire  as  she  spoke  ;  "  and  had  my  advice  been  listened 
to,  they  had  have  been  apprehended  in  the  very  fact: 
and  so>  dealt  with,  as  to  be  a  warning  to  all  others  how 
they  sought  this  independent  principality  on  such  an  er- 
rand. But  my  sou,  who  is  generally  so  culpably  neg- 
ligent of  his  own  affairs,  was  pleased  to  assume  the 
management  of  them  upon  this  crisis." 

"  I  am  happy  to  learn,  madam,"  answered  Peveril, 
-  that  the  measures  of  precaution  which  my  kinsman 
nas  adopted,  have  had  the  complete  effect  of  disconcer- 
iing  the  conspiracy." 

«  For  the  present,   Julian  :   but  they   should  haye 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  247 

been  such  as  would  have  made  the  boldest  tremble,  to 
think  of  such  infringement  on  our  rights  in  future.  But 
Derby's  present  plan  is  fraught  with  greater  danger  ; 
and  yet  there  is  something  of  gallantry,  which  has  my 
sympathy.'7 

"What  is  it,  madam?"  inquired  Julian,  anxiously; 
"and  in  what  can  I  aid  it,  or  avert  its  dangers?" 

"  He  purposes,"  said  the  Countess,  "  instantly  to  set 
forth  for  London.  He  is,  he  says,  not  merely  the  feudal 
chief  of  a  small  island,  but  one  of  the  noble  Peers  of 
England,  who  must  not  reuiain  in  the  security  of  an  ob- 
scure and  distant  castle,  when  his  name,  or  that  of  his 
mother,  is  slandered  before  his  Prinre  and  people.  He 
will  take  his  place,  he  sass,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
publicly  demand  justice  for  the  insult  thrown  on  his 
house,  by  perjured  and  interested  witnesses." 

"  It  is  a  generous  resolution,  and  worthy  of  my  friend," 
said  Julian  Peveril.  k'  1  will  go  with  him,  and  share  his 
fate,  be  it  what  it  may." 

"  Alas,  foolish  boy  ?"  answered  the  Countess,  "  as 
well  may  you  ask  a  hungry  lion  to  feel  compassion,  as  a 
prejudiced  and  furious  people  to  do  justice.  They  are 
like  the  madman  at  the  height  of  frenzy,  who  murders 
without  compunction  his  best  and  dearest  friend  ;  and 
only  wonders  and  wails  over  his  own  cruelty,  when  he  is 
recovered  from  his  delirium." 

"  Pardon  me,  dearest  lady,"  said  Julian,  "  this  can 
not  be.  The  noble  and  generous  people  of  England 
cannot  be  thus  strangely  misled.  Whatever  preposses- 
sions may  be  current  among  the  more  vulgar,  the  Hou- 
ses of  Legislature  cannot  be  deeply  infected  by  them — 
they  will  remember  their  own  dignity.'' 

"  Alas,  cousin."  answered  the  Countess,  "  when  did 
Englishmen,  even  of  the  highest  degree,  remember  any 
thing,  when  hurried  away  by  the  violence  of  party  feel- 
ing ?  Even  those  who  have  too  much  sense  to  believe 
in  the  incredible  fictions  which  gull  the  multitude,  will 
beware  how  they  expose  them,  if  their  own  political  par- 
ty can  gain  a  momentary  advantage  by  their  being  ac- 
credited. It  is  amongst  such,  too,  that  your  kinsman 
has  found    friends   and  associates,     Neglecting  the  old 


248 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 


friends  of  his  house,  as  too  grave  and  formal  companions 
for  the  humour  of  the  times,  his  intercourse  has  been 
with  the  versatile  Shaftesbury — the  mercurial  Bucking- 
ham— men  who  would  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  to  the 
popular  Moloch  of  the  day,  whatsoever,  or  whomsoev- 
er— whose  ruin  could  propitiate  the  deity.  Forgive  a 
mother's  tears,  kinsman ;  but  I  see  the  scaffold  at  Bol- 
ton again  erected.  If  Derby  goes  to  London  while  these 
blood-hounds  are  in  full  cry,  obnoxious  as  he  is,  and  as 
I  have  made  him  by  my  religious  faith,  and  my  conduct 
in  this  island,  he  dies  his  father's  death.  And  yet  upon 
what  other  course  to  resolve  ! — " 

"  Let  me  go  to  London,  madam,''  said  Peveril,  much 
moved  by  the  distress  of  his  patroness  ;  "  your  ladyship 
was  wont  to  rely  something  on  my  judgment.  I  will  act 
for  the  best — will  communicate  with  those  whom  you 
point  out  to  me,  and  only  with  them  ;  and  I  trust  soon  to 
send  you  information  that  this  delusion,  however  strong 
it  may  now  be.  is  in  the  course  of  passing  away;  at 
worst,  I  can  apprize  you  of  the  danger,  should  it  menace 
the  Earl  or  yourself;  and  may  be  able  also  to  point  out 
the  means  by  which  it  may  be  eluded." 

The  Countess  listened  with  a  countenance  in  which 
the  anxiety  of  maternal  affection,  which  prompted  her  to 
embrace  Peveril's  generous  offer,  struggled  with  her  na- 
tive disimerested  and  generous  disposition.  "  Think 
what  you  ask  of  me,  Julian,''  she  replied,  with  a  sigh. 
,;  Would  you  have  me  expose  the  life  of  my  friend's  son 
to  those  perils  to  which  I  refuse  my  own  ? — No,  ne- 
ver." 

"  Nay,  but,  madam,"  replied  Julian,  "  I  do  not  run 
the  same  risk — my  person  is  not  known  in  London—my 
situation,  though  not  obscure  in  my  own  country,  is  too 
little  known  to  be  noticed  in  that  huge  assemblage  of  all 
that  is  noble  and  wealthy.  No  whisper,  I  presume,  how- 
ever indirect,  has  connected  my  name  with  the  alleged 
conspiracy.  1  am  a  Protestant,  above  all ;  and  can  be 
accused  of  no  intercourse,  direct  or  indirect,  with  the 
Church  of  Rome.  My  connexions,  alas,  lie  amongst 
those  who,  if  they  do  not,  or  can  not,  befriend  me,  can  not 
at  least  be  dangerous  to  me.  In  a  word,  I  run  no  daiL- 
ger,  where  the  Earl  might  incur  great  peril.'' 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  249 

I*  Alas !''  said  the  Countess  of  Derby,  "  all  this  gener- 
ous reasoning  may  be  true  ;  but  it  could  only  be  listened 
to  by  a  widowed  mother.  Selfish  as  I  am,  I  cannot  but 
reflect  that  my  kinswoman  has,  in  all  events,  the  support 
of  an  affectionate  husband — such  is  the  interested  rea- 
soning to  which  we  are  not  ashamed  to  subject  our 
better  feelings." 

*•  Do  not  call  it  so,  madam,'1  answered  Peveril ; 
"  think  of  me  but  as  the  younger  brother  of  my  kinsman. 
You  have  ever  done  by  me  the  duties  of  a  mother;  and 
have  a  right  to  my  filial  service,  were  it  at  a  risk  ten 
times  greater  than  a  journey  to  London,  to  inquire  into 
the  temper  of  uhe  times.  I  will  instantly  go,  and  an- 
nounce my  departure  to  the  Earl." 

'Stay,  Julian"  said  the  Countess  ;  "  if  you  must 
make  this  journey  in  our  behalf, — and.  alas,  1  have  not 
generosity  enough  to  refuse  your  noble  proffer. — you 
must  go  alone,  and  without  communication  with  Derby. 
I  know  him  well ;  his  lightness  of  mind  is  free  from  sel- 
fish baseness  ;  and  for  the  world,  he  would  not  suffer,  you 
to  leave  Man  without  his  company.  And  if  he  went 
with  you.  your  noble  and  disinterested  kindness  would 
be  of  no  avail — you  would  but  share  his  ruin,  as  the 
swimmer  who  attempts  to  save  a  drowning  man  is  involv- 
ed in  his  fate,  if  he  permit  the  sufferer  to  grapple  with 
him." 

u  It  shall  be  as  you  please,  madam."  said  Peveril. 
u  I  am  ready  to  depart  upon  half  an  hour's  notice." 

a  This  night,  then,"  said  the  Countess,  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause — "  this  night  I  will  arrange  the  most  se- 
cret means  of  carrying  your  generous  project  into  ef- 
fect ;  for  I  would  not  excite  that  prejudice  against  you, 
which  will  instantly  arise,  were  it  known  you  had  so 
lately  left  this  island,  and  its  Popish  lady.  You  will  do 
well,  perhaps,  to  use  a  feigned  name  in  London." 

•'Pardon  me,  madam,"  said  Julian;  "1  will  do  no- 
thing that  can  draw  on  me  unnecessary  attention  ;  but 
to  bear  a  feigned  name,  or  effect  any  disguise  beyond 
living  with  extreme  privacy,  would,  I  think,  be  unwise 
as  well  as  unworthy ;  and  what,  if  challenged,  I  might 


250  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

find  some  difficulty  in  assigning  a  reason  for,  consisteni 
with  perfect  fairness  of  intentions." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  answered  the  Countess, 
after  a  moment's  consideration  ;  and  then  added,  "  You 
propose,  doubtless,  to  pass  through  Derbyshire  ;  and  vi- 
sit Martindaie  Castle  ?" 

"  I  should  wish  it,  madam,  certainly,"  replied  Peve- 
ril,  "  did  time  permit,  and  circumstances  render  it  ad- 
visable." 

"  Of  that,''  said  the  Countess,  "  you  must  yourself 
judge.  Despatch  is,  doubtless,  desirable  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  arriving  from  your  own  family-seat,  you  will  be 
less  an  object  of  douht  and  suspicion,  than  if  you  post- 
ed up  from  hence,  without  even  visiting  your  parents. 
You  must  be  guided  in  this — in  all — by  your  own  pru- 
dence. Go,  my  dearest  son  ;  for  to  me  you  should  be 
dear  as  a  son — go,  and  prepare  for  your  journey.  I  will 
get  ready  some  despatches,  and  a  supply  of  money — 
Nay,  do  not  object.  Am  I  not  your  mother ;  and  are 
you  not  discharging  a  son's  duty  ?  Dispute  not  my  right 
of  defraying  your  expenses.  Nor  is  this  all  ;  for  as  I 
must  trust  your  zeal  and  prudence  to  act  in  our  behalf 
when  occasion  shall  demand,  I  will  furnish  you  with  ef- 
fectual recommendations  to  our  friends  and  kindred,  en- 
treating and  enjoining  them  to  render  whatever  aid  you 
may  require,  either  for  your  own  protection,  or  the  ad- 
vancement of  what  you  may  propose  in  our  favour." 

Peveril  made  no  farther  opposition  to  an  arrange- 
ment, which  in  truth  the  moderate  state  of  his  own  finan- 
ces rendered  almost  indispensable,  unless  with  his  fa- 
ther's assistance  ;  and  the  Countess  put  into  his  hand 
bills  of  exchange,  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  pounds, 
upon  a  merchant  in  the  city.  She  then  dismissed  Ju- 
lian for  the  space  of  an  hour  ;  after  which,  she  said,  she 
must  again  require  his  presence. 

The  preparations  for  his  journey  were  not  of  a  nature 
to  divert  the  thoughts  which  speedily  pressed  on  him. 
He  found  that  half  an  hour's  conversation  had  once 
more  completely  changed  his  immediate  prospects  and 
plans  for  the  future.  He  had  offered  to  the  Countess  of 
Derbv  a  service  which  her  uniform  kindness  had  well 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  251 

deserved  at  his  hand ;  but,  by  her  accepting  it,  he  was 
upon  the  point  of  being  separated  from  Alice  Bridge- 
north,  at  a  time  when  she  was  become  dearer  to  him 
than  ever,  by  her  avowal  of  mutual  passion.  Her  image 
rose  before  him,  such  as  he  had  that  day  pressed  her  to 
his  bosom — her  voice  was  in  his  ear,  and  he  seemed  to 
ask  whether  he  could  desert  her  in  the  crisis  which  eve- 
ry thing  seemed  to  announce  as  impending.  But  Julian 
Peveril,  his  youth  considered,  was  strict  in  judging  his 
duty,  and  severely  resolved  in  executing  it.  He  trusted 
not  his  imagination  to  pursue  the  vision  which  presented 
itself;  but  resolutely  seizing  his  pen,  wrote  to  Alice  the 
following  letter,  explaining  his  situation,  as  far  as  jus- 
tice to  the  Countess  permitting  him  to  do  so  : — 

"  I  leave  you,  dearest  Alice,"  thus  ran  the  letter,  "  I 
leave  you  ;  and  though,  in  doing  so,  I  but  obey  the  com- 
mand you  have  laid  on  me,  yet  I  can  claim  little  merit 
for  my  compliance,  since,  without  additional  and  most 
forcible  reasons  in  aid  of  your  orders,  I  fear  I  should 
have  been  unable  to  comply  with  them.  But  family  af- 
fairs of  importance  compelled  me  to  absent  myself  from 
this  island,  for  I  fear,  more  than  one  week.  My 
thoughts,  hopes,  and  wishes,  will  be  on  the  moment  that 
will  restore  me  to  the  Black-Fort,  and  its  lovely  valley. 
Let  me  hope  that  yours  will  sometimes  rest  on  the 
lonely  exile,  whom  nothing  could  render  such,  but  the 
command  of  honour  and  duty.  Do  not  fear  that  I  mean 
to  iuvolve  you  in  private  correspondence,  and  let  not 
your  father  fear  it.  I  could  not  love  you  so  much,  but 
for  the  openness  and  candour  of  your  nature  ;  and  I 
would  not  that  you  c<  nc^aled  from  Major  Bridgenorth 
one  syllable  of  what  1  now  avow.  Respecting  other 
matters,  he  himself  cannot  desire  the  welfare  of  our 
common  country  with  more  zeal  than  I  do.  Differen- 
ces may  occur  concerning  the  mode  in  which  that  is  to 
be  obtained  ;  but,  in  thu  principle,  I  am  convinced  there 
can  be  only  one  niind  between  us  ;  nor  can  I  refuse  to 
listen  to  his  experience  and  wisdom,  even  where  they 
may  ultimately  fail  to  convince  me.  Farewell — Alice, 
farewell  !  Much  might  be  added  to  that  melancholy 
word, 'but  nothing  that  could  express  the  bitterness  with 


252  PEVRILE  OF  THE  PEAK. 

which  it  is  written.  Yet  I  could  transcribe  it  again  and 
again,  rather  than  conclude  the  last  communication 
which  I  can  have  with  you  for  some  time.  My  sole 
comfort  is,  that  my  stay  will  scarce  be  so  long  as  to  per- 
mit you  to  forget  one  who  never  can  forget  you." 

He  held  the  paper  in  his  hand  for  a  minute  after  he 
had  folded,  but  before  he  had  sealed  it,  while  he  hurri- 
edly debated  in  his  own  mind  whether  he  had  not  ex- 
pressed himself  towards  Major  Bridgenoith  in  so  conci- 
liating a  manner  as  might  excite  hopes  of  proselytism, 
which  his  conscience  told  him  he  could  not  realize  with 
honour.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  no  ri^ht  from, 
what  Bridgeworth  had  said,  to  conclude  that  their  prin- 
ciples were  diametrically  irreconcileable  ;  for  though 
the  son  of  a  high  cavalier,  and  educated  in  the  family  of 
the  Countess  of  Derby,  he  was  himself,  upon  principle, 
an  enemy  of  prerogative,  and  a  friend  to  the  liberty  of 
the  subject.  And  with  such  considerations  he  silenced 
all  internal  objections  on  the  point  of  honour;  although 
his  conscience  secretly  whispered  that  these  conciliatory 
expressions  towards  the  father  were  chiefly  dictated  by 
the  fear,  that,  during  his  absence,  Major  Bridgenorth 
might  be  tempted  to  change  the  residence  of  his  daugh- 
ter, and  perhaps  to  convey  her  altogether  out  of  his 
reach. 

Having  sealed  his  letter,  Julian  called  his  servant,  and 
directed  him  to  carry  it,  under  cover  of  one  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Debbitch,  to  a  house  in  the  town  of  Rushein, 
where  packets  and  messages  intended  for  the  family  at 
Black-Fort  were  usually  deposited  ;  and  for  that  pur- 
pose to  take  horse  immediately.  He  thus  got  rid  of  an 
attendant,  who  might  have  been  in  some  degree  a  spy 
on  his  motions.  He  then  exchanged  the  dress  he  usual- 
ly wore,  for  one  more  suited  to  travelling;  and  having 
put  a  change  or  two  of  linen  into  a  small  cloak-bag,  se- 
lected as  arms  a  strong  double-ed^ed  sword  and  an  ex- 
cellent pair  of  pistols,  which  last  he  carefully  loaded 
with  double  bullets.  Thus  appointed,  and  with  twenty 
pieces  in  his  purse,  and  the  bills  we  have  mentioned  se- 
cured in  a  private  pocket-book,  he  was  in  readiness  to 


FETER1L  OF  THE  PEAR.  253 

depart  so  soon  as  he  should  receive  the  Countess's  com- 
mands. 

The  buoyant  spirit  of  youth  and  hope,  which  had,  for 
a  moment,  been  chilled  by  the  painful  and  dubious  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed,  as  weli  as  the  de- 
privation which  he  was  about  to  undergo,  now  revived 
in  full  vigour.  Fancy,  turning  from  more  painful  an- 
ticipations, suggested  to  him  that  he  was  now  entering 
upon  life,  at  a  crisis  when  resolution  and  talents  were 
almost  certain  to  make  the  fortune  of  their  possessor. — 
How  could  he  make  a  more  honourable  entry  on  the  bust- 
ling scene,  than  when  sent  by,  and  acting  in  behalf  of,  one 
of  the  noblest  houses  in  England;  and  should  he  perform 
what  his  charge  might  render  incumbent,  with  the  reso- 
lution and  the  prudence  necessary  to  secure  success, 
how  many  occurrences  might  take  place  to  render  his 
mediation  necessary  to  Bridgenorth  ;  and  thus  enabled 
him.  on  the  most  equal  and  honourable  terms,  to  estab- 
lish a  claim  to  his  gratitude  and  to  his  daughter's  hand. 
Whilst  he  was  dwelling  on  such  pleasing,  though  ima- 
ginary prospects,  he  could  not  help  exclaiming  aloud — 
"  Yes,  Alice,  I  will  win  thee  nobly  !''  The  words  had 
scarce  escaped  his  lips  when  he  heard  at  the  door  of  his 
apartment,  which  the  servant  had  left  ajar,  a  sound  like 
a  deep  sigh,  which  was  instantly  succeeded  by  a  gentle 
tap — "  Come  in,"  replied  Julian,  somewhat  ashamed  of 
his  exclamation,  and  not  a  little  afraid  that  it  had  been 
caught  by  some  eves-dropper. — "  Come  in,"  he  again 
repeated;  but  his  command  was  not  yet  obeyed,  on  the 
contrary  the  knock  was  repeated  somewhat  louder.  He 
opened  the  door,  and  Fenella  stood  before  him. 

With  eyes  that  seemed  red  with  recent  tears,  and  with 
a  look  of  the  deepest  dejection,  the  little  mute,  first  touch- 
ing her  bosom,  and  beckoning  with  her  finger,  made  to 
him  the  usual  sign  that  the  Countess  desired  to  see  him, — 
then  turned  as  if  to  usher  him  to  her  apartment.  As  he 
followed  her  through  the  long  gloomy  vaulted  passages 
which  afforded  communication  betwixt  the  various  apart- 
mants  of  the  castle,  he  could  not  but  observe  that  her 
usual  light  trip  was  exchanged  for  a  tardy  and  mournful 
step,  which  she  accompanied  with  low  inarticulate  moao- 
Vol.  I.  22 


254 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 


ing  (which  she  was  probably  the  less  able  to  suppress-, 
because  she  could  not  judge  how  far  it  was  audible,) 
and  also  with  wringing  of  the  hands,  and  other  marks 
of  extreme  affliction. 

At  this  moment  a  thought  came  across  Feveril's  mind, 
which,  in  spite  of  his  better  reason,  made  him  shudder 
involuntarily.  As  a  Peaksman,  and  a  long  resident  in 
the  Isle  of  Man,  he  was  well  acquainted  with  many  a 
superstitious  legend,  and  particularly  with  a  belief,  which 
attached  to  the  powerful  family  of  the  Stanleys,  for  their 
peculiar  demon,  a  Ban-shie,  or  female  spirit,  who  was 
wont  to  shriek,  "  forboding  evil  times;''  and  who  was 
generally  seen  weeping  and  bemoaning  herself  before 
the  death  of  any  person  of  distinction  belonging  to  the 
family.  For  an  instant,  Julian  could  scarce  divest  him- 
self of  the  belief  that  the  wailing,  gibbering  form  which 
glided  before  him,  with  a  lamp  in  her  hand,  was  t'ie  ge- 
nius of  his  mother's  race  come  to  announce  to  him  his 
predestined  doom.  It  instantly  occurred  to  him,  as  an 
analagous  reflection,  that  if  the  suspicion  which  had 
crossed  his  mind  concerning  Fenella  was  a  just  one,  her 
ill-fated  attachment  to  him,  like  that  of  the  prophetic 
spirit  to  his  family,  could  bode  nothing  but  disaster,  and 
lamentation,  and  woe. 


PEVERIL  OF  THE    PEAK.  265 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

i\Tow  hoist  th    anchor,  mates — and  lot  the  sails 

Give  their  broad  bosom  to  the  buxom  wind, 

Like  a  lass  that  wooes  a  lover. Anonymous. 

The  presence  of  the  Countess  dispelled  the  supersti- 
tious feeling,  which,  for  an~  instant,  had  encroached  on 
Julian's  imagination,  and  compelled  him  to  give  atten- 
tion to  the  matters  of  ordinary  life.  "  Here  are  your 
credentials,'1  she  said,  giving  him  a  small  packet  care- 
fully put  up  in  a  seal-skin  cover ;  "  you  had  better  not 
open  them  till  you  come  to  London.  You  must  not  be 
surprised  to  find  that  there  are  one  or  two  addressed  to 
men  of  my  own  persuasion.  These,  for  all  our  sakes, 
you  will  observe  caution  in  delivering. 

"  I  go  your  messenger,  madam,"  said  Peveril ;  "  and 
whatever  you  desire  me  to  charge  myself  with,  of  that  I 
undertake  the  care.  Yet  allow  me  to  doubt  whether  an 
intercourse  with  Catholic*  will  at  this  moment  forward 
the  purposes  of  my  mission.'' 

"You  have  caught  the  general  suspicion  of  this  wick- 
ed sect  already,"  said  the  Countess,  smiling,  "  and  are 
the  fitter  to  go  amongst  Englishmen  in  their  present 
mood.  But,  my  cautious  friend,  these  letters  are  so  ad- 
dressed, and  the  persons  to  whom  they  are  addressed  so 
disguised,  that  you  will  run  no  danger  in  conversing  with 
them.  Without  their  aid.  indeed,  you  will  not  be  able 
to  obtain  the  accurate  information  you  go  to  seek.  None 
can  tell  so  exactly  how  the  wind  sets,  as  the  pilot  whose 
vessel  is  exposed  to  the  storm.  Besides,  though  you 
Protestants  deny  our  priesthood  the  harmlessness  of  the 
dove,  you  are  ready  enough  to  allow  us  a  full  share  ol 
the  wisdom  of  the  serpent; — in  plain  terms,  their  mean> 
of  information  are  extensive,  and  they  are  not  deficient 
in  the  power  of  applying  it.  I  therefore  wish  you  to 
have  the  benefit  of  their  intelligence  and  advice,  if  pos- 
sible." 

"  Whatever  you  impose  on  me  as  a  part  of  my  duty, 
madam,  rely  on  its  being  discharged  punctually,"  an- 
swered Peveril.  "  And  now,  as  there  is  little  use  in  de- 
ferring execution  of  a  purpose  when  once  fixed,  let  me 


^56  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

know  your  ladyship's  wishes  concerning  my  departure." 
— "  It  must  be  sudden  and  secret,"  said  the  Countess  ; 
"  the  island  is  full  of  spies;  and  I  would  not  wish  that 
any  of  them  should  have  notice  that  an  envoy  of  mine 
was  about  to  leave  Man  for  London. — Can  you  be  ready- 
to  go  on  board  to-morrow  ?" 

"  To-night  —this  instant  if  you  will,"  said  Julian, — 
"  my  little  preparations  are  complete." 

"  Be  ready,  then,  in  your  chamber,  at  two  hours  after 
midnight.  1  will  send  one  to  summon  you,  for  our  se- 
cret must  be  communicated,  for  the  present,  to  as  few  as 
possible.  A  foreign  sloop  is  engaged  to  carry  you  over ; 
then  make  the  best  of  your  way  to  London,  by  Martin- 
dale  Castle  or  otherwise,  as  you  find  most  advisable. — 
When  it  is  necessary  to  announce  your  absence,  I  will 
say  you  are  gone  to  see  your  parents.  But  stay — your 
journey  will  be  on  horseback,  of  course,  from  White- 
haven. You  have  bills  of  exchange,  it  is  true;  but  are 
you  provided  with  ready  money  to  furnish  yourself  with 
a  fon^  lio^c-o  ?" 

'I  am  sufficiently  rich,  madam,"  answered  Julian; 
';  and  good  nags  are  plenty  in  Cumberland.  There  are 
those  among  them  who  know  how  to  come  by  them  good 
and  cheap." 

"  Trust  not  to  that,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Here  is 
what  will  purchase  for  you  the  best  horse  on  the  Bor- 
ders.— Can  you  be  simple  enough  to  refuse  it?"  she  add- 
ded,  as  she  pressed  on  him  a  heavy  purse,  which  he  saw 
himself  obliged  to  accept. 

"  A  good  horse,  Julian,"  said  the  Countess,  "  and  a 
•good  sword,  next  to  a  good  heart  and  head  are  the  ac- 
complishments of  a  cavalier." 

"  I  kiss  your  hands,  then,  madam,"  saidPeveril,  "and 
humbly  beg  you  to  believe,  that  whatever  may  fail  in  my 
present  undertaking,  my  purpose  to  serve  you,  my  no- 
ble kinswoman  and  benefactress,  can  at  least  never 
swerve  or  falter." 

"  I  know  it,  my  son,  I  know  it ;  and  may  God  for- 
give me  if  my  anxiety  for  your  friend  has  sent  you 
on  dangers  which  should  have  been  his.  Go — go — 
May  saints  and  angels  bless  you.  Fenella  shall  acquaint 
him   that  you   sup  in  your  , own  apartment.     So  indeed 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  2&7 

will  I ;  for  to-night  I  shall  be  unable  to  face  my  son's 
looks.  Little  will  lie  thank  me  sending  you  on  his  er- 
rand ;  and  there  will  be  many  to  ask  whether  it  was  like 
the  Lady  of  Latham  to  thrust  her  friend's  son  on  the 
danger  which  should  have  been  found  by  her  own.  But 
O,  Julian,  I  am  now  a  forlorn  widow,  whom  sorrow  has 
made  selfish." 

k*  Tush,  madam,"  answered  Peveril ;  u  it  is  more  un- 
like the  Lady  of  Latham  to  anticipate  dangers  which 
may  not  exist  at  all,  and  to  which,  if  they  do  indeed  oc- 
cur, I  am  less  obnoxious  than  my  noble  kinsman.  Fare- 
well !  All  blessings  attend  you,  madam.  Commend  me 
to  Derby,  and  make  him  my  excuses.  I  will  expect  a 
summons  at  two  hours  after  midnight." 

They  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  each  other;  the 
more  affectionate,  indeed,  on  the  part  of  the  Countess, 
that  she  could  not  entirely  reconcile  her  generous  mind 
to  exposing  Peveril  to  danger  on  her  son's  behalf;  and 
Julian  betook  himself  to  his  solitary  apartment. 

His  servant  soon  afterwards  brought  him  wine  and  re- 
freshments; to  which,  notwithstanding  the  various  mat- 
ters he  had  to  occupy  his  mind,  he  contrived  to  do  rea- 
sonable justice.  But  when  this  needful  occupation  was 
finished,  his  thoughts  began  to  stream  in  upon  him  like  a 
troubled  tide — recalling  at  once  the  past,  and  anticipa- 
ting the  future.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  wrapped  himself 
in  his  riding  cloak,  and,  lying  down  on  his  bed,  endea- 
voured to  compose  himself  to  sleep.  The  uncertainty 
of  the  prospect  before  him — the  doubt  how  Bridgenorth 
might  dispose  of  his  daughter  during  his  absence — the 
fear  that  the  Major  himself  might  fall  into  the  power  of 
the  vindictive  Countess,  besides  a  numerous  train  of 
vague  and  half-formed  apprehensions,  agitated  his  blood, 
and  rendered  slumber  impossible.  Alternately  to  re- 
cline in  the  old  oaken  easy  chair,  and  listen  to  the  dash- 
ing of  the  waves  under  the  windows,  mingled,  as  the 
sound  was,  wilh'lhe  scream  of  the  sea-birds  ;  or  to  tra- 
verse the  apartment  with  long  and  slow  steps,  pausing 
occasionally  to  look  out  on  the  sea,  slumbering  under 
the  influence  of  a  full  moon  which  tipped  each  wave 
with  silver — such  were  the  only  pastimes  he  could  in- 

*22 


158  PKVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

vent,  until  midnight  had  past  for  one  hour,  when  the 
next  was  wasted  in  anxious  expectation  of  the  summons 
of  departure. 

At  length  it  arrived — a  tap  at  his  door  was  followed 
by  a  low  murmur,  which  made  him  suspect  that  the 
Countess  had  again  employed  her  mute  attendant  as  the 
most  secure  minister  of  her  pleasure  on  this  occasion. 
He  felt  something  like  impropriety  in  this  selection; 
and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  impatience  alien  to  the  na- 
tural generosity  of  his  temper,  that,  when  he  opened  the 
door,  he  beheld  the  dumb  maiden  standing  before  him. 
The  lamp  which  he  held  in  his  hand  showed  his  features 
distinctly,  and  probably  made  Fenella  aware  of  the  ex- 
pression which  animated  them.  She  cast  her  large  dark 
eyes  mournfully  on  the  ground;  and  without  again  look- 
ing him  in  the  face,  made  him  a  signal  to  follow  her. 
He  delayed  no  longer  than  was  necessary  to  secure  his 
pistols  in  his  belt,  wrap  his  cloak  closer  around  him,  and 
and  take  his  small  portmantle  under  his  arm.  Thus  ac- 
coutred, he  followed  her  out  of  the  Keep,  or  inhabited 
part  of  the  Castle,  by  a  series  of  obscure  passages  lead- 
ing to  a  postern  gate,  which  she  unlocked  with  a  key, 
selecled  from  a  bundle  which  she  carried  at  her  girdle. 

They  now  stood  in  the  castle-yard,  in  the  open  moon- 
light, which  glimmered  white  and  ghastly  on  the  variety 
of  strange  and  ruinous  objects  to  which  we  have  former- 
ly alluded,  and  which  gave  the  scene  rather  the  appear- 
ance of  some  ancient  cemetery,  than  of  the  interior  of  a 
fortification.  The  round  and  elevated  tower — the  an- 
cient mount,  with  its  quadrangular  sides  facing  the  ruin- 
ous edifices  which  once  boasted  the  name  of  Cathedral — 
seemed  of  more  antique  and  anomalous  form,  when  seen 
by  the  pale  light  which  now  displayed  them.  To  one  of 
those  churches  Fenella  took  the  direct  course,  and  was 
followed  by  Julian,  although  he  at  once  divined,  and  was 
superstitious  enough  to  dislike,  the  path  she  was  about  to 
adopt,  it  was  by  a  secret  passage  through  this  church, 
ihat  in  former  times  the  guard-room  of  the  garrison,  si- 
tuated at  the  lower  and  external  defences,  communicated 
with  the  Keep  of  the  Castle  ;  and  through  this  passage 
were  the  keys  of  the  Castle  every  night  carried  to  the 
Governor's  apartment,  so  soon  as  the  gates  were  lock- 


yEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  259 

ed,  and  the  watch  set.  The  custom  was  given  up  iu 
James  the  First's  time,  and  the  passage  abandoned, 
on  account  of  the  well-known  legend  of  the  Manthe 
Dog — a  fiend,  or  demon,  in  the  shape  of  a  large,  shaggy, 
black  mastiff,  by  which  the  church  was  haunted.  It  was 
devoutly  believed,  that  in  former  times  this  spectre  be- 
came so  familiar  with  mankind,  as  to  appear  almost 
nightly  in  the  guard-room,  issuing  from  the  passage 
which  we  have  mentioned  at  night,  and  retiring  to  it  at 
daybreak.  The  soldiers  became  partly  familiarized  to 
its  presence;  yet  not  so  much  so  as  to  u>e  a-«y  license  of 
language  while  the  apparition  was  visible  ;  until  one  fel- 
low, rendered  daring  by  intoxication,  swore  he  would 
know  whether  it  was  dog  or  devil,  and  with  his  drawn 
sword,  followed  the  spectre  when  it  retreated  by  the 
usual  passage.  The  man  returned  in  a  few  minute«, 
sobered  by  terror,  his  mouth  gaping,  and  his  hair  stand* 
ing  on  end  ;  but,  unhappily  for  the  lovers  of  the  marvel- 
lous, altogether  unable  to  'isclose  the  horrors  which  he 
had  seen.  Under  the  evil  repute  arising  from  this  title 
of  wonder,  the  guard- room  was  abandoned,  and  a  new 
one  constructed.  In  like  manner,  the  guards  after  that 
period  held  another  and  more  circuitous  communication 
with  the  Governor  or  Seneschal  of  the  Castle  ;  and  that 
which  lay  through  the  ruinous  church  was  entirely  aban- 
doned. 

In  defiance  of  the  legendary  terrors  which  tradition 
had  attached  to  the  original  communication,  Fen<  11a, 
followed  by  Peveril,  now  boldly  traversed  the  ruinous 
vaults  through  which  it  lay — sometimes  only  guided  over 
heaps  of  ruins  by  the  precarious  light  of  the  lamp  borne 
by  the  dumb  maiden — sometimes  having  the  advantage 
of  a  gleam  of  moonlight,  darting  into  the  dreary  abyss 
through  the  shafted  windows,  or  through  breaches  made 
by  time.  As  ihe  path  was  by  no  means  a  straight  one, 
Peveril  could  not  but  admire  the  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  mazes  which  his  singular  companion  displayed, 
as  well  as  the  boldness  with  which  she  traversed  them, 
He  himself  was  not  so  utterly  void  of  the  prejudices  of 
the  times,  but  what  he  contemplated,  with  some  appre- 
hension, the  possibility  of  intruding  on  the  lair  of  the 
phantom-hound,  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  often  ;  and  in 


&G0  PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK. 

every  remote  sigh  of  the  breeze  among  the  ruins,  he 
thought  he  heard  him  baying  at  the  mortal  footsteps 
which  disturbed  his  gloomy  realm.  No  such  terrors, 
however,  interrupted  their  journey  ;  and  in  the  course  of 
a  few  minutes,  they  attained  the  deserted  and  now  ruin- 
ous guard-house.  The  broken  walls  of  the  little  edifice 
served  to  conceal  them  from  the  sentinels,  one  of  whom 
was  keeping  a  drowsy  watch  at  the  lower  gate  of  the 
Castle  ;  whilst  another,  seated  on  the  stone  steps  which 
commuuteated  with  the  parapet  of  the  bounding  and 
exterior  wall,  was  slumbering,  in  full  security,  with  his 
musket  peacefully  grounded  by  his  side.  Fenella  made 
a  sign  to  Peveril  to  move  with  silence  and  caution,  and 
then  showed  him,  to  his  surprise,  from  the  window  of  the 
deserted  guard-room,  a  boat,  for  it  was  now  high  watery 
with  four  rowers,  lurking  under  the  cliff  on  which  the 
Castle  was  built ;  and  made  him  farther  sensible,  that 
he  was  to  have  access  to  it  by  a  ladder  of  considerable 
height  placed  at  the  window  of  the  ruin. 

Julian  was  both  displeased  and  alarmed  by  the  security 
and  carelessness  of  the  sentinels,  who  had  suffered  such 
preparations  to  be  made  without  observation  or  alarm 
given ;  and  he  hesitated  whether  he  should  not  call  the 
officer  of  the  guard,  upbraid  him  with  negligence,  and 
show  him  how  easily  Holm-Peel,  in  spite  of  its  natural 
strength,  and  although  reported  impregnable,  might  be 
surprised  by  a  few  resolute  men.  Fenella  seemed  to  guess 
his  thoughts  with  that  extreme  acuteness  of  observation 
which  her  deprivations  had  occasioned  her  acquiring. 
She  laid  one  hand  on  his  arm,  and  a  finger  of  the  other 
on  her  own  lips,  as  if  to  enjoin  forbearance;  and  Julian, 
knowing  that  she  acted  by  the  direct  authority  of  the 
Countess,  obeyed  her  accordingly  ;  but  with  the  internal 
resolution  to  lose  no  time  in  communicating  his  senti- 
ments to  the  Earl,  concerning  the  danger  to  which  the 
Castle  was  exposed  on  this  point. 

In  the  mean  time  he  descended  the  ladder  with  some 
precaution,  for  the  steps  were  unequal,  broken,  wet.  and 
slippery;  and  having  placed  himself  in  the  stern  of  the 
boat,  made  a  ignal  to  the  men  to  push  off,  and  turned  to 
tike  farewell  of  his  guide.  To  his  utter  astonishment, 
Fenella  rather  slid  down,  than  descended  regularly,  the 


PRVERIL   OF  THE   PEAK.  261 

perilous  ladder ;  and  the  boat  being  already  pushed  off, 
made  a  spring  from  the  last  step  of  it  with  incredible 
agility,  and  seated  herself  beside  Peveril,  ere  he  could  e  - 
press  either  remonstrance  or  surprise.  He  commanded 
the  men  once  more  to  pull  in  to  the  precarious  landing- 
place  ;  and  throwing  into  his  countenance  a  part  of  the 
displeasure  which  he  really  felt,  endeavoured  to  make  her 
comprehend  the  necessity  of  returning  to  her  niistress.  Fe- 
nella  folded  her  arms,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  haughty 
smile,  which  completely  expressed  the  determination  of 
her  purpose.  Peveril  was  extremely  embarrassed  ;  he 
was  afraid  of  offending  the  Countess,  and  interfering  with 
her  plan  by  giving  alarm,  which  otherwise  he  was  much 
tempted  to  have  done.  On  Fenella,  it  was  evident  no 
species  of  argument  which  he  could  employ  was  like  to 
make  the  least  impression  ;  and  the  question  remained, 
how  if  she  went  on  with  him,  he  was  to  rid  himself  of  so 
singular  and  inconvenient  a  companion,  and  provide,  at 
the  same  time,  sufficiently  for  1  er  personal  security. 

The  boatmen  brought  th*  nyatter  to  a  decision:  for, 
after  laying  on  their  oars  for  a  minute,  whispering  among 
themselves  in  Low  Dutch  or  German,  they  began  to  pull 
stoutly,  and  were  soon  at  some  distance  from  the  Castle. 
The  possibility  of  the  sentinels  sending  a  musket-ball,  or 
even  a  cannon-shot,  after  them,  was  one  of  the  contingen- 
cies, which  gave  Peveril  momentary  anxiety  ;  but  they 
left  the  fortress,  as  they  must  have  approached  it,  un- 
noticed, or  at  least  unchallenged — a  carelessness  on  the 
part  of  the  garrison,  which,  notwithstanding  that  the  oars 
were  muffled,  and  that  the  men  spoke  little,  and  in  whis- 
pers, argued,  in  Peveril's  opinion,  great  negligence  on 
the  part  of  the  sentinels.  When  they  were  a  little  way 
from  the  Castle,  the  men  began  to  row  briskly  towards  a 
small  vessel  which  lay  at  some  distance.  Peveril  had,  in 
the  meantime,  leisure  to  remark,  that  the  boatmen  spoke 
to  each  other  doubtfully,  and  bent  anxious  looks  on  Fe- 
nella. as  if  doubtful  whether  they  had  acted  properly  in 
bringing  her  off. 

After  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  rowing,  they  reach- 
ed the  little  sloop,  where  Peveril  was  received  by  the 
skipper,  or  captain,  on  the  quarter-deck,  with  offer  ol 
spirits  or  refreshment      A  word  or  two  amoug  the  sea- 


262  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

men  withdrew  the  captain  from  his  hospitable  cares,  and 
he  flew  to  the  ship's  side,  apparently  to  prevent  Fenella 
from  entering  the  vessel.  The  men  and  he  talked  eager- 
ly in  Dutch,  looking  anxiously  at  Fenella  as  they  spoke 
together;  and  Peveril  hoped  the  result  would  be,  that  the 
poor  young  woman  should  be  sent  ashore  again.  But 
she  baffled  whatever  opposition  could  be  opposed  to  her; 
and  when  the  accommodation-ladder,  as  it  is  called,  was 
withdrawn,  snatched  the  end  of  a  rope,  and  climbed  on 
board  with  the  dexterity  of  a  sailor,  leaviug  them  no 
means  of  preventing  her  entrance,  save  by  actual  vio- 
lence, to  which  apparently  they  did  not  choose  to  have 
recourse.  Once  on  deck,  she  took  the  captain  by  the 
sleeve,  and  led  him  to  the  head  of  the  vessel,  where  they 
seemed  to  hold  intercourse  in  manner  intelligible  to  both, 

Peveril  soon  forgot  the  presence  of  the  mute,  as  he 
began  to  muse  upon  bis  own  situation,  and  the  probabil- 
ity that  he  was  separated  for  some  considerable  time 
from  the  object  of  his  affections.  "  Constancy,"  he  re- 
peated to  himself. — "  C"nui™C".':  And,  as  if  in  cot!** 
cidence  with  the  theme  of  his  reflections,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  the  polar  star,  which  that  night  twinkled  with 
more  than  ordinary  brilliancy.  Emblem  of  pure  passion 
and  steady  purpose — the  thoughts  which  arose  as  he 
viewed  its  clear  and  unchanging  light,  were  disinterest- 
ed and  noble.  To  seek  his  country's  welfare,  and  se- 
cure the  blessings  of  domestic  peace — to  discharge  a 
bold  and  perilous  duty  to  bis  friend  and  patron — to  re- 
gard his  passion  for  Alice  Bridgenorth,  as  the  load-stai 
which  was  to  «;uide  him  to  noble  deeds — were  the  reso* 
lutions  which  thronged  upon  his  mind,  and  which  exalt- 
ed his  spirits  to  that  state  of  romantic  melancholy, 
which  perhaps  is  ill  exchanged  even  for  feelings  of  joy- 
ful rapture. 

He  was  recalled  from  these  contemplations  by  some- 
thing which  nestled  itself  softly  and  closely  to  his  side — 
a  woman's  sigh  sounded  so  near  him,  as  to  disturb  his 
reverie  ;  and  as  he  turned  his  head,  he  saw  Fenella 
seated  beside  him,  with  her  eves  fixed  on  the  same  star 
which  had  just  occupied  his  own.  His  first  emotion  was 
that  of  displeasure  ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  persevere 
in  it,  towards  a  being  so  helpless  in  many  respects,  so 


PEVERIL  OF  THE   PEAK.  263 

interesting  in  others  ;  whose  large  dark  eyes  were  filled 
with  dew,  which  glistened  in  the  moonlight;  and  the 
source  of  whose  emotions  seemed  to  be  in  a  partiality 
which  might  well  claim  indulgence,  at  least  from  him, 
who  was  the  object  of  it.  At  the  same  time.  Julian  re- 
solved to  seize  the  present  opportunity,  for  such  expos- 
tulation with  Fenella  on  the  strangeness  of  her  conduct, 
as  the  poor  maiden  might  be  able  to  comprehend.  He 
took  her  hand  with  great  kindness,  but  at  the  same  time 
with  much  gravity,  pointed  to  the  boat,  and  to  the  castle, 
whose  towers  and  extended  walls  were  now  scarce  visi- 
ble in  the  distance  :  and  thus  intimated  to  her  the  ne- 
cessity of  her  return  to  Holm  Peel.  She  looked  down, 
and  shook  her  head,  as  if  negativing  his  proposal  with 
obstinate  decision.  Ju'ian  renewed  his  expostulation 
by  look  and  gesture — pointed  to  his  own  heart,  to  inti- 
mate the  Countess — and  bent  his  brows,  to  show  the 
pleasure  which  she  must  entertain.  To  all  which,  the 
maiden  only  answered  by  her  tears. 

At  length,  as  if  driven  to  explanation  by  his  continued 
rem  »n-trances,  she  suddenly  seized  him  by  the  arm,  to 
arrest  his  attention — cast  her  eye  hastily  around,  as  if  to 
see  whether  she  was  watched  by  any  one — then  drew 
the  other  hand,  edgeways,  across  her  slender  throat — 
pointed  to  th.e  boat,  and  to  the  castle,  and  nodded. 

On  this  series  of  signs,  Peveril  could  put  no  interpre- 
tation, excepting  that  he  was  menaced  with  some  per- 
sonal danger,  from  which  Fenella  seemed  to  conceive 
that  her  presence  was  a  protection.  Whatever  was  her 
meaning,  her  purpose  seemed  unalterably  adopted  ;  at 
least,  it  wa^i  plain  he  hid  no  power  to  shake  it.  He 
must,  therefore,  wait  till  the  end  of  their  short  voyage, 
to  disembarrass  himself  of  his  companion  ;  and,  in  the 
meanwhile,  acting  on  the  idea  of  her  having  harboured 
a  misplaced  attachment  to  him,  he  thought  he  should 
best  consult  her  interest,  and  his  own  character,  in  keep- 
ing at  as  great  a  distance  from  her  as  circumstances  ad- 
mitted. With  this  purpose,  he  made  the  sign  she  used 
for  going  to  sleep,  by  leaning  his  head  on  his  palm  ;  and 
having  thus  recommended  to  her  to  go  to  rest,  he  him- 
self desired  to  be  conducted  to  his  birth. 


264  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

The  captain  readily  showed  him  a  hammock  in  the 
after-cabin,  into  which  he  threw  himself,  to  seek  that  re- 
pose which  the  exercise  and  agitation  of  the  preceding 
day,  as  well  as  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  made  him  now 
feel  desirable.  Sleep,  deep  and  heavy,  sunk  down  on 
him  in  a  few  minutes,  but  it  did  not  endure  long.  In 
his  sleep  he  was  disturbed  by  female  cries  ;  and  at  length, 
as  he  thought,  distinctly  heard  the  voice  of  Alice  Bridge- 
north  call  on  his  name. 

He  awoke,  and  starting  up  to  quit  his  bed,  became 
sensible,  from  the  motion  of  the  vessel,  and  the  swinging 
of  the  hammock,  that  his  dream  had  deceived  him.  He 
was  still  startled  by  its  extreme  vivacity  and  liveliness. 
"  Julian  Peveril,  help !  Julian  Peveril !"  The  sound 
still  rung  in  his  ears — the  accents  were  those  of  Alice — 
and  he  could  scarce  persuade  himself  that  his  imagina- 
tion had  deceived  him.  Could  she  be  in  the  same  ves- 
sel ?  The  thought  was  not  altogether  inconsistent  with 
her  father's  character,  and  the  intrigues  in  which  he  was 
engaged  ;  but,  then,  if  so.  to  what  peril  was  she  exposed, 
that  she  invoked  his  name  so  loudly  ? 

Determined  to  make  instant  inquiry,  he  jumped  out  of 
his  hammock,  half  dressed  as  he  was,  and  siumbling 
about  the  little  cabin,  which  was  as  dark  as  pitch,  at 
length,  with  a  considerable  difficulty,  reached  the  door. 
The  door,  however,  he  was  altogether  unable  to  open; 
and  was  obliged  to  call  loudly  to  the  watch  upon  deck. 
The  skipper,  or  captain,  as  he  was  called,  being  the  only 
persou  aboard  who  could  speak  English,  answered  to  the 
summons,  and  replied  to  PeveriPs  demand,  what  noise 
that  was  ? — that  a  boat  was  going  off  with  the  young 
woman — that  she  whimpered  a  little  as  she  left  the  ves- 
sel— and  "  dat  vaas  all.1' 

This  explanation  satisfied  Julian,  who  thought  it  pro- 
bable that  some  degree  of  violence  might  have  been 
absolutely  necessary  to  remove  Fenella  ;  and  although 
he  rejoiced  not  to  have  witnessed  it,  he  could  not  feel 
sorry  that  such  had  been  employed.  Her  pertinacious 
desire  to  continue  on  board,  and  the  difficulty  of  freeing 
himself  when  he  should  come  ashore  from  so  singular 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  20a 

impanion,  bad  given  him  a  good  deal  of  anxiety  on 
the  preceding  night,  which  he  now  saw  removed  by  this 
bold  stroke  of  the  captain. 

His  drearn  was  thus  fully  explained.  Fancy  had 
caught  up  the  inarticulate  and  vehement  cries  with  which 
Fenella  was  wont  to  express  resistance  or  displeasure — 
had  coined  them  into  language,  and  given  them  the  ac- 
cents of  Alice  Bridgenorth.  Our  imagination  plays 
wilder  tricks  with  us  almost  every  night. 

The  captain  now  undid  the  door,  and  appeared  with 
j.  lantern,  without  the  aid  of  which,  Peveril  could  scarce 
have  regained  his  couch,  where  he  now  slumbered  se- 
cure and  sound,  until  day  was  far  advanced,  and  the  in- 
vitation of  the  captain  called  him  up  to  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

fcTow,  what  is  this  that  haunts  me  like  my  shadow, 
Frisking  and  mumming  like  an  elfin  moonlight? 

BEJV  JoNSOJf. 

Peveril  found  the  master  of  the  vessel  rather  less 
vude  than  those  in  his  station  of  life  usually  are,  and  re- 
ceived from  him  full  satisfaction  concerning  the  fate  of 
Fenella,  upon  whom  the  captain  bestowed  a  hearty 
curse,  for  obliging  him  to  lay-to  until  he  had  sent  his 
boat  ashore,  and  had  her  back  again. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Peveril,  "  no  violence  was  necessary 
to  reconcile  her  to  go  ashore  ?  1  trust  she  offered  no  fool- 
ish resistance?" 

"  Resist !  mein  Gott,"  said  the  captain.  "  she  did  resist 
like  a  troop  of  horse — she  did  cry,  you  might  hear  her 
at  Whitehaven — she  did  go  up  the  rigging  like  a  cat  up 
a  chimney ;  but  dat  vas  ein  trick  of  her  old  trade." 

"  What  trarle  do  you  mean  f"  said  Peveril. 

"  O,"  said  the  seaman,  "  I  vas  known  more  about  her 
than  you,  Meinheer.  I  vas  known  that  she  vas  a  little, 
very  little  girl,  and  prentice  to  one  seiltanzer,  when  my 
hidy  yonder  had  the  good  luck  to  buy  her." 

Vol.  I.  23 


~6(>  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK* 

"  A  seiltanzer,"  said  Peveril ;  "  what  do  you  mean  b\ 
that  r" 

"  I  mean  a  rope-danzer,  a  mountebank,  a  Hans  pickel- 
barring.  J  vas  known  Adrian  Brackel  veil — he  sell  de 
powders  dat  empty  men's  stomach,  and  fill  him's  own 
purse.  Not  know  Adrian  Brackel,  mein  Gott !  I  have 
smoked  many  a  pound  of  tabak  with  him." 

Peveril  now  remembered  that  Fenella  had  been 
brought  into  the  family  when  he  and  the  young  Earl 
were  in  England,  while  the  Countess  was  absent  on  an 
expedition  to  the  continent.  Where  the  Countess  found 
her,  she  never  communicated  to  the  young  men ;  but 
only  intimated,  that  she  had  received  her  out  of  compas- 
sion, in  order  to  relieve  her  situation  of  extreme  distress." 

He  hinted  so  much  to  the  communicative  seaman,  who 
replied,  "  that  for  distress  he  knew  nocht  on't ;  only, 
that  Adrian  Brackel  beat  her  when  she  would  not  dance 
on  the  rope,  and  starved  her  when  she  did,  to  prevent 
her  growth."  The  bargain  between  the  Countess  and  the 
mountebank,  he  said,  he  had  made  himself;  because  the 
Countess  had  hired  his  brig  upon  her  expedition  to  the 
continent.  None  else  knew  where  she  came  from.  The 
Countess  had  seen  her  on  a  public  stage  at  Ostend — 
compassionated  her  helpless  situation,  and  the  sgyjTa 
treatment  she  received — and  had  employed  him  to 
purchase  the  poor  creature  from  her  master,  and  charged 
him  with  silence  towards  all  her  retinue.  "And  sol  do 
keep  silence,"  continued  the  faithful  confidant,  "  van  I 
am  in  the  havens  of  Man  ;  but  when  I  am  on  the  broad 
seas,  den  my  tongue  is  mine  own,  you  know.  Die  fool- 
ish beoples  in  the  island,  they  say  she  is  a  wechsel-balg 
— what  you  call  a  fairyelf  changeling.  My  faith,  they 
do  not  never  have  seen  ein  wechsel-balg ;  for  I  saw  one 
myself  at  Cologne,  and  it  was  twice  as  big  as  yonder 
girl,  and  did  break  the  poor  people,  with  eating  them  up, 
like  de  great  big  cuckoo  in  the  sparrow's  nest ;  but  this 
Venella  eat  no  more  than  other  girls— it  was  no  wechsel- 
balg  in  the  world." 

By  a  different  train  of  reasoning,  Julian  had  arrived 
at  the  same  conclusion  ;  in  which,  therefore,  he  heartily 
acquiesced.     During  the  seaman's  prosing,  he  was  re-- 


PEVERIL  OF   THE    PKAK 


26' 


fleeting  within  himself,  how  much  of  the  singular  flexi- 
bility of  her  limbs  and  movements  the  unfortunate  girl 
must  have  derived  from  the  discipline  and  instructions  of 
Adrian  Brackel ;  and  also  how  far  the  germs  of  her  wil- 
ful and  capricious  passions  might  have  been  sown  during 
her  wandering  and  adventurous  childhood.  Aristocra- 
tic, also,  as  his  education  had  been,  the  anecdotes  re- 
specting Fenella's  original  situation  and  education  rather 
increased  his  pleasure  at  having  shaken  oif  her  compa- 
ny ;  and  yet  he  still  felt  desirous  to  know  any  further 
particulars  which  the  seaman  could  communicate  on  the 
same  subject.  But  he  had  already  told  all  he  knew. 
Of  her  parents  he  knew  nothing,  except  that  "  her  fa- 
ther must  have  been  a  damned  hundsfoot,  and  a  schelm, 
for  selling  his  own  flesh  and  blood  to  Adrian  Brackel ;" 
for  by  such  a  transaction  had  the  mountebank  become 
possessed  of  his  pupil. 

This  conversation  tended  to  remove  any  passing  doubts 
which  might  have  crept  on  Peveril's  mind  concerning  the 
fidelity  of  the  master  of  the  vessel,  who  appeared  from 
thence  to  have  been  a  former  acquaintance  of  the  Coun- 
tess, and  to  have  enjoyed  some  share  of  her  confidence. 
The  threatening  motion  used  by  Fenella  he  no  longer 
considered  as  worthy  of  any  notice,  excepting  as  a  new 
mark  of  the  irritability  of  her  temper. 

He  amused  himself  with  walking  the  deck,  and  musing 
on  his  past  and  future  prospects,  until  his  attention  was 
forcibly  arrested  by  the  wind,  whicli  began  to  rise  in 
gusts  from  the  northwest,  in  a  manner  so  unfavourable 
to  the  course  they  intended  to  hold,  that  the  master,  after 
many  efforts  to  beat  against  it,  declared  his  bark,  which 
was  by  no  means  an  excellent  sea-boat,  was  unequal  to 
making  Whitehaven;  and  that  he  was  compelled  to 
make  a  fair  wind  of  it,  and  run  for  Liverpool.  To  thi- 
coarse  Peveril  did  not  object.  It  saved  him  some  land 
journey,  in  case  he  visited  his  father's  castle;  and  the 
Countess's  commission  would  be  discharged  as  effectual- 
ly the  one  way  as  the  other. 

The  vessel  was  put,  accordingly,  before  the  wind,  and 
ran  with  great  steadiness 'and  velocity.  The  captain, 
notwithstanding,   pleading  some  nautical  hazards,  chose 


PEVEKIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

to  lay  off.  and  did  not  attempt  the  mouth  of  the  Mei 
until  morning,  when  Peveril  had  at  length  the  satisfac- 
tion of  being  landed  upon  the  quay  of  Liverpool,  which 
even  then  showed  symptoms  of  the  commercial  prospe- 
rity which  has  since  been  carried  to  such  a  height. 

The  master,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the  port„ 
pointed  out  to  Julian  a  decent  place  of  entertainment. 
chiefly  frequented  by  seafaring  people ;  for,  although  he 
had  been  in  the  town  formerly,  he  did  not  think  it  pro- 
per to  go  any  where  at  present,  where  he  might  have 
been  unnecessarily  recognised.  Here  he  took  leave  of 
the  seaman,  after  pressing  upon  him  with  difficulty  a 
small  present  for  his  crew.  As  for  his  passage,  the  cap- 
tain  declined  any  recompense  whatsoever  ;  and  they  part- 
ed on  the  most  civil  terms. 

The  inn  to  which  he  was  recommended  was  full  of 
strangers,  seamen,  and  mercantile  people,  all  intent  up- 
on their  own  affairs,  and  discussing  them  with  noise  and 
eagerness  peculiar  to  the  business  of  a  thriving  seaport. 
But  although  the  general  clamour  of  the  public  room,  in 
which  the  guests  mixed  with  each  other,  related  chiefly 
to  their  own  commercial  dealings,  there  was  a  general 
theme  mingling  with  them,  which  was  alike  common  and 
interesting  to  all  j  so  that,  amidst  disputes  about  freight, 
tonnage,  demurrage,  and  such  like,  were  heard  the  em- 
phatic sounds  of  "  Deep,  damnable,  accursed  plot," — 
" Bloody  Papist  villains," — "The  King  in  danger — the 
gallows  too  good  for  them,"  und  so  forth. 

The  fermentation  excited  in  London  had  plainly 
reached  even  this  remote  seaport,  and  was  received  b) 
the  inhabitants  with  the  peculiar  stormy  energy  which 
invests  men  in  their  situation  with  the  character  of  the 
winds  and  waves  with  which  they  are  chiefly  conversant. 
The  commercial  and  nautical  interests  of  England  were 
indeed  particularly  anti-catholic;  although  it  is  not. 
perhaps,  easy  to  give  any  distinct  reason  why  they  should 
be  so,  since  theological  disputes  in  general  could  scarce 
be  considered  as  interesting  to  them.  But  zeal,  amongst 
the  lower  orders  at  least,  is  often  in  an  inverse  ratio  to 
knowledge;  and  sailors  were  not  probably  the  less  ear- 
nest and  devoted  Protestants,   that  thev  did  not  under- 


PEVER1L    OF    THE.    PEAK.   I  269 

stand  the  controversy  between  the  churches.  As  for  the 
merchants,  they  were  almost  necessarily  inimical  to  the 
gentry  of  Lancashire  and  Cheshire  ;  many  of  whom  still 
retained  the  faith  of  Rome,  which  was  rendered  ten  times 
more  odious  to  the  men  of  commerce,  as  the  badge  of 
their  haughty  aristocratic  neighbours. 

From  the  little  which  Peveril  heard  of  the  sentiments 
of  the  people  of  Liverpool,  he  imagined  he  should  act 
most  prudently  in  leaving  the  place  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  before  any  suspicion  should  arise  of  his  having  any 
connexion  with  the  party  which  appeared  to  have  become 
so  obnoxious. 

In  order  to  accomplish  his  journey,  it  was  first  neces- 
sary that  he  should  purchase  a  horse  ;  and  for  this  pur- 
pose he  resolved  to  have  recourse  to  the  stables  of  a 
dealer  well  known  at  the  time,  and  who  dwelt  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  place  ;  and  having  obtained  directions  to  In- 
dwelling, he  went  thither  to  provide  himself. 

Joe  Bridlesley's  stables  exhibited  a  large  choice  of  good 
horses  ;  for  that  trade  was  formerly  more  generally  active 
than  at  present.  It  was  an  ordinary  thing  for  a  stranger 
to  buy  a  horse  for  the  purpose  of  a  single  journey,  and 
to  sell  him,  as  well  as  he  could,  when  he  had  reached  the 
point  of  his  destination  ;  and  hence  there  was  a  constant 
demand,  and  a  corresponding  supply  ;  upon  both  of  which, 
Bridlesley,  and  those  of  his  trade,  contrived,  doubtless, 
to  make  handsome  profits. 

Julian,  who  was  no  despicable  horse-jockey,  selected 
for  his  purpose  a  strong  well-made  horse,  about  sixteen 
hands  high,  and  had  him  led  into  the  yard,  tosee  whether 
his  paces  corresponded  with  his  appearance.  As  these 
also  gave  perfect  satisfaction  to  the  customer,  it  remained 
only  to  settle  the  price  with  Bridlesley,  who  of  course  saw 
his  customer  had  pitched  upon  the  best  horse  ever  dark- 
ened the  stable  door,  since  he  had  dealt  that  way ;  that 
no  such  hordes  were  to  be  had  now-a-days,  for  that  the 
mares  were  dead  that  foaled  them  ;  and  having  named  a 
corresponding  price,  the  usual  haggling  commenced  be- 
twixt the  seller  and  purchaser,  for  adjustment  of  what  the 
'French  dealers  call  It  prix  juste. 

The  reader,  if  he  is  at  all  acquainted  with  this  sort  of 
23* 


Z1KX  *    PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.. 

traffic,  well  knows  it  is  generally  a  keen  encounter  01 
wits,  and  attracts  the  notice  of  all  the  idlers  within 
hearing,  who  are  usually  very  ready  to  offer  their  opi- 
nions, or  their  evidence.  Amongst  these,  upon  the  pre- 
sent occasion,  was  a  thin  man,  rather  less  than  the  ordi- 
nary size,  and  meanly  dressed  ;  but  whose  interference 
was  in  a  confident  tone,  and  such  as  showed  himself 
master  of  the  subject  on  which  he  spoke.  The  price  of 
the  horse  being  settled  to  about  fifteen  pounds,  which  was 
very  high  for  the  period,  that  of  the  saddle  and  bridle 
had  next  to  be  adjusted,  and  the  thin  mean  looking  per- 
son before  mentioned,  found  nearly  as  much  to  say  on 
tins  subject  as  on  the  other.  As  his  remarks  had  a  con- 
ciliating and  obliging  tendency  towards  the  stranger. 
Peveril  concluded  he  was  one  of  those  idle  persons,  who, 
unable  or  unwilling  to  supply  themselves  with  means  of 
indulgence  at  their  own  cost,  are  not  unwilling  to  deserve 
them  at  the  hands  of  others,  by  a  little  officious  com- 
plaisance ;  and  considering  that  he  might  acquire  some 
useful  information  from  such  a  person,  was  just  about  to 
offer  him  the  courtsey  of  a  morning  draught,  when  he 
observed  he  had  suddenly  left  the  yard.  He  had  scarce 
remarked  this  circumstance,  before  a  party  of  customers 
filtered  the  place,  whose  haughty  assumption  of  impor- 
tance claimed  the  instant  attention  of  Bridlesley.  and  all 
his  militia  of  grooms  and  stable-boys. 

"Three  good  horses,'7  said  the  leader  of  the  party,  a 
i all  bulky  man,  whose  breath  was  drawn  full  and  high, 
under  a  consciousness  of  fat,  and  of  importance — "  three 
good  and  able-bodied  horses,  for  the  service  of  the  Com- 
mons of  England." 

Bridlesley  said  he  had  some  horses  which  might  serve 
I  he  Speaker  himself  at  need  ;  but  that,  to  speak  Christian 
truth,  he  had  just  sold  the  best  in  his  stable  to  that  gen- 
tleman present,  who,  doubtless,  would  give  up  the  bar- 
gain if  the  horse  was  needed  for  the  service  of  the  state. 

"  You  speak  well,  friend,"  said  the  important  per- 
sonage; and  advancing  to  Julian,  demanded,  in  a  very 
haughty  tone,  the  surrender  of  the  purchase  which  he 
hatl  just  made. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  2?  1 

Peveril,  with  some  difficulty,  subdued  the  strong  de- 
sire which  he  felt  to  return  a  round  refusal  to  so  unrea- 
sonable a  request,  but  fortunately,  recollecting  that  the 
situation  in  which  he  at  present  stood,  required,  on  his 
part,  much  circumspection,  he  replied  simply,  that  upon 
showing  him  any  warrant  to  seize  upon  horses  for  the 
public  service,  he  must  of  course  submit  to  resign  his. 
purchase. 

The  man,  with  an  air  of  extreme  dignity,  pulled  from 
his  pocket,  and  thrust  into  Peveril's  hands,  a  warrant, 
subscribed  by  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
empowering  Charles  Topham,  their  officer  of  the  Black 
Rod,  to  pursue  and  seize  upon  the  persons  of  certain  in- 
dividuals named  in  the  warrant ;  and  of  all  other  per- 
sons who  are,  or  should  be,  accused  by  competent  wit- 
nesses, of  being  accessory  to,  or  favourers  of,  the  hellish 
and  damnable  Popish  Plot,  at  present  carried  on  within 
the  bowels  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  charging  all  men,  as 
they  loved  their  allegiance,  to  render  the  said  Charles 
Topham  their  readiness  and  most  effective  assistance,  in 
execution  of  the  duty  intrusted  to  his  care. 

On  perusing  a  document  of  such  weighty  import,  Ju- 
lian had  no  hesitation  to  give  up  his  horse  to  this  formi- 
dable functionary  ;  whom  somebody  compared  to  a  lion, 
which,  as  the  House  of  Commons  was  pleased  to  main- 
tain such  an  animal,  they  were  under  the  necessity  of 
providing  for  by  frequent  commitments;  until  "talc? 
lil m.  Topham,"  became  a  proverb,  and  a  formidable  one, 
in  the  mouth  of  the  public. 

The  acquiescence  of  Peveril  procured  him  some  grace 
in  the  sight  of  the  emissary ;  who,  before  selecting  two 
horses  for  his  attendants,  gave  permission  to  the  stran- 
ger to  purchase  a  gray  horse,  much  inferior,  indeed,  to 
that  which  he  had  resigned,  both  in  form  and  in  action, 
but  very  little  lower  in  price,  as  Mr.  Bridlesley,  imme- 
diately on  learning  the  demand  for  the  horse  upon  the 
part  of  the  Commons  of  England,  had  passed  a  private 
resolution  in  his  own  mind,  augmenting  the  price  of  hi- 
whole  stud,  by  an  imposition  of  at  least  twenty  per  cent, 
ad  valorem. 


27-2  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

Peveril  adjusted  and  paid  the  price  with  much  les- 
argument  than  on  the  former  occasion  ;  for,  to  be  plain 
with  the  reader,  he  had  noticed  in  the  warrant  of  Mr. 
Topham,  the  name  of  his  father,  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril  of 
Martindale  Castle,  engrossed  at  full  length,  as  one  of 
those  subjected  to  arrest  by  that  officer. 

When  aware  of  this  material  fact,  it  became  Julian'* 
business  to  leave  Liverpool  directly,  and  carry  the  alarm 
to  Derbyshire,  if,  indeed,  Mr.  Topham  had  not  already 
executed  his  charge  in  that  country,  which  he  thought 
unlikely,  as  it  was  probable  they  would  commence  by 
securing  those  who  lived  nearest  to  the  seaports.  A 
word  or  two  which  he  overheard,  strengthened  his 
hopes. 

"  And  hark  ye,  friend,"  said  Mr.  Topham  ;  "  you 
will  have  the  horse  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Shortell,  the  mer- 
cer, in  two  hours,  as  we  shall  refresh  ourselves  there 
with  a  cool  tankard,  and  learn  what  folks  live  in  the 
neighbourhood  that  may  be  concerned  in  my  way.  And 
you  will  please  to  have  that  saddle  padded,  for  I  am  told 
the  Derbyshire  roads  are  rough.  And  you,  Captain 
Danglefield,  and  Master  Everett,  you  must  put  on  your 
Protestant  spectacles,  and  show  me  where  there  is  the 
shadow  of  a  priest,  or  of  a  priest's  favourer;  for  I  am 
come  down  with  a  broom  in  my  cap  to  sweep  this  north 
country  of  such  like  cattle." 

One  of  the  persons  he  thus  addressed,  who  wore  the 
garb  of  a  broken-down  citizen,  only  answered,  "  Ay. 
truly,  Master  Topham,  it  is  time  to  purge  the  garner." 

The  other,  who  had  a  formidable  pair  of  whiskers,  a 
red  nose,  and  a  tarnished  laced  coat,  together  with  a  hat 
of  Pistol's  dimensions,  was  more  loquacious.  "  I  take 
it  on  my  damnation,"  said  this  zealous  Protestant  wit- 
ness,  "  that  1  will  discover  the  marks  of  the  beast  on 
every  one  of  them  betwixt  sixteen  and  seventy,  as  plain- 
ly as  if  they  had  crossed  themselves  with  ink,  instead  of 
holy  water.  Since  we  have  a  King  willing  to  do  jus- 
tice, and  a  House  of  Commons  to  uphold  prosecutions, 
why,  damn  me,  the  cause  must  not  stand  still  for  lack  of 
evidence." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  2?3 

'•  Stick  to  that,  noble  captain,"  answered  the  officer  ; 
"  but  prithee,  reserve  thy  oaths  for  the  court  of  justice; 
it  is  but  sheer  waste  to  throw  them  away,  as  you  do,  in 
your  ordinary  conversation." 

"  Fear  you  nothing,  Master  Topham,"  answered  Dan- 
gerfield  ;  "  it  is  right  to  keep  a  man's  gifts  in  use  ;  and 
were  I  altogether  to  renounce  oaths  in  my  private  dis- 
course, how  should  I  know  how  to  use  one  when  1  need- 
ed it  ?  But  you  hear  me  use  none  of  your  Papist  abju- 
rations. I  swear  not  by  the  Mass,  or  before  George,  or 
by  any  thing  that  belongs  to  idolatry  ;  but  such  down- 
right oaths  as  may  serve  a  poor  Protestant  gentleman, 
who  would  fain  serve  Heaven  and  the  King." 

"  Bravely  spoken,  most  noble  Festus,"  said  his  yoke- 
fellow. "  But  do  not  suppose,  that  although  I  do  not 
use  to  garnish  my  words  with  oaths  out  of  season,  that 
I  will  be  wanting,  when  called  upon,  to  declare  the 
height  and  the  depth,  the  width  and  the  length,  of  this 
hellish  plot  against  the  King  and  the  Protestant  faith." 

Dizzy,  and  almost  sick,  with  listening  to  the  undis- 
guised brutality  of  these  fellows,  Peveril  having  writh 
difficulty  prevailed  on  Bridlesley  to  settle  his  purchase, 
at  length  led  forth  his  gray  steed  ;  but  was  scarce  out  of 
the  yard,  when  he  heard  the  following  alarming  conver- 
sation pass,  of  which  he  seemed  himself  the  object. 

"  Who  is  that  youth :"  said  the  slow  soft  voice  of  thr- 
more  precise  of  the  two  witnesses.  "  Methinks  I  have 
seen  him  somewhere  before.     Is  he  from  these  parts  ?" 

•■  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Bridlesley  ;  who,  like  all 
the  other  inhabitants  of  England  at  the  time,  answered 
the  interrogatories  of  these  fellows  with  the  deference 
which  is  paid  in  Spain  to  the  questions  of  an  inquisitor. 
"  A  stranger — entirely  a  stranger — never  saw  him  be- 
fore— a  wild  young  colt,  I  warrant  him ;  and  knows  a 
horse's  mouth  as  well  as  I  do.'" 

"  I  begin  to  bethink  me  I  saw  such  a  face  as  his  at  the 
Jesuit's  consult,  in  the  White  Horse  Tavern."  answered 
Everett. 

*•*  And  I  think  I  recollect."  said  Captain  Danger- 
field 


J74  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

"Come,  come,  master  and  captain,"  said  the  autho- 
ritative voice  of  Topham,  "  we  will  have  none  of  your 
recollections  at  present.  We  all  know  what  these  are 
likely  to  end  in.  But  I  will  have  you  know,  you  are 
not  to  run  till  the  leash  is  slipped.  The  young  man  is  a 
well-looking  lad,  raid  gave  up  his  horse  handsomely  for 
the  service  of  the  House  of  Commons.  He  knows  how 
to  behave  himself  to  his  betters,  I  warrant  you  ;  and  I 
scarce  think  he  has  enough  in  his  purse  to  pay  the  fees." 

This  speech  concluded  the  dialogue,  which  Peveril, 
finding  himself  so  much  concerned  in  the  issue,  thought 
it  best  to  hear  to  an  end.  Now  when  it  ceased,  to  get 
out  of  the  town  unobserved,  and  take  the  nearest  way  to 
li is  father's  castle,  seemed  his  wisest  plan.  He  had  set- 
tled his  reckoning  at  the  inn,  and  brought  with  him  to 
Bridlesley's  the  small  portmantle  which  contained  his 
few  necessaries,  so  that  he  had  no  occasion  to  go  thither. 
He  resolved,  therefore,  to  ride  some  miles  before  he 
stopped,  even  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  his  horse  ;  and 
being  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  country,  he  hoped 
to  be  able  to  push  forward  to  Martindale  Castle  sooner 
than  the  worshipful  Master  Topham  ;  whose  saddle  was, 
in  the  first  place,  to  be  padded,  and  who,  when  mounted, 
would,  in  all  probability,  ride  with  the  precaution  of 
those  who  require  such  security  against  the  effects  of  a 
hard  trot. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  Julian  pushed  for 
Warrington,  a  place  with  which  he  was  well  acquainted  ; 
but  without  halting  in  the  town,  he  crossed  the  Mersey, 
by  the  bridge  built  by  an  ancestor  of  his  friend  the  Earl 
of  Derby,  and  continued  his  rout  towards  Dishley,  on  the 
borders  of  Derbyshire,  He  might  have  reached  thi^ 
latter  village  easily,  had  his  horse  been  fitter  for  a  forced 
march  ;  but  in  the  course  of  the  journey,  he  had  occa- 
sion more  than  once,  to  curse  the  official  dignity  of  the 
person  who  had  robbed  him  of  his  better  horse,  while  ta- 
king the  best  direction  he  could  through  a  country  with 
which  he  was  only  generally  acquainted. 

At  length,  near  Altringham,  a  halt  became  unavoid- 
able :    and  Peveril  had  only  to  look  for  some  quiet  and 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  21i) 

sequestered  place  of  refreshment.  This  presented  itself, 
in  the  form  of  a  small  cluster  of  cottages  ;  the  best  of 
which  united  the  characters  of  an  alehouse  and  a  mill. 
where  the  sign  of  the  Cat  (the  landlord's  faithful  ally  in 
defence  of  his  meal-sacks)  booted  as  high  as  Grimalkin 
in  the  fairy  tale,  and  playing  on  the  fiddle  for  the  more 
grace,  announced  that  John  Whitecraft  united  the  two 
honest  occupations  of  landlord  and  miller  ;  and  doubt- 
less took  toll  from  the  public  in  both  capacities. 

Such  a  place  promised  a  traveller,  who  journeyed  in- 
cognito, more  safe,  if  not  better  accommodation,  than  he 
was  like  to  meet  with  in  more  frequented  inns  ;  and  at 
the  door  of  the  Cat  and  Fiddle,  Julian  halted  accord- 
ingly. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

teflHte?,  when  each  n 
The  bloody  stratag^TC  of  busy  heads. 


In  these  distrncteftfHfce?,  when  each  man  dread; 


Otway. 


At  the  door  of  the  Cat  and  Fiddle,  Julian  received  the 
usual  attention  paid  to  the  customers  of  an  inferior  hou^f- 
of  entertainment.  His  horse  was  carried  by  a  ragged 
lad,  who  acted  as  hostler,  in  a  paltry  stable  ;  where,  how- 
ever, it  wa>  tolerably  supplied  with  food  and  litter. 

Having  seen  the  animal  on  which  his  comfort,  per- 
haps his  safety  depended,  properly  provided  for,  Peveril 
entered  the  kitchen,  which  indeed  was  also  the  parlom 
and  hall  of  the  little  hostelry,  to  try  what  refreshment 
he  could  obtain  for  himself.  Much  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  found  there  was  only  one  guest  in  the  kitchen  beside 
himself,  but  he  was  less  pleased  when  he  found  that  he 
must  either  go  without  dinner,  or  share  with  that  single 
guest  the  only  provisions  which  chanced  to  be  in  the 
house,  namely,  a  dish  of  trouts  and  eels,  which  their  host, 
the  miller,  had  brought  in  from  his  mill-stream. 

At  the  particular  request  of  Julian,  the  landlady  un- 
dertook to  add  a  substantial   dish   of  eggs   and  bacon. 


276  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

which  perhaps  she  would  not  have  undertaken  for,  had 
not  the  sharp  eye  of  Peveril  discovered  the  flitch  hang- 
ing in  its  smoky  retreat,  when,  as  its  presence  could  not 
he  denied,  the  hostess  was  compelled  to  bring  it  forward 
as  a  part  of  her  supplies. 

She  was  a  buxom  dame,  about  thirty,  whose  comely 
and  cheerful  countenance  did  honour  to  the  choice  of 
the  jolly  miller,  her  loving  mate  ;  and  was  now  station- 
ed under  the  shade  of  an  old  fashioned  huge  projecting 
chimney,  within  which  it  was  her  province  to  "  work  i* 
the  lire,"  and  provide  for  the  wearied  wayfaring  man. 
the  good  things  which  were  to  send  him  rejoicing  on  his 
way.  Although,  at  first,  the  honest  woman  seemed  little 
disposed  to  give  herself  much  additional  trouble  on  Ju- 
lian's account,  yet  the  good  looks,  handsome  figure,  and 
easy  civility  of  her  new  guest,  soon  bespoke  the  princi- 
pal part  of  her  attention  ;  and  while  busy  in  his  service, 
she  regarded  him,  from  time  to  time,  with  looks,  where 
something  like  pity  mingled  with  complacency.  Tin- 
rich  smoke  of  the  rasher,  and  tNRggs  with  which  it  was 
flanked,  already  spread  itself  through  the  apartment  ; 
and  the  hissing  of  these  savoury  viands  bore  chorus  to 
the  simmering  of  the  pan,  in  which  the  fish  were  under- 
going a  slower  decoction.  The  table  was  covered  with 
a  clean  huck-a-buck  napkin,  and  all  was  in  preparation 
for  the  meal,  which  Julian  began  to  expect  with  a  good  deal 
of  impatience,  when  the  companion  who  was  .destinccPto 
share  it  with  him,  entered  the  apartment. 

At  the  first  glance,  Julian  recognised,  to  his  surprise. 
the  same  indifferently  dressed,  thin-looking  person,  wht>. 
during  the  first  bargain  which  he  had  made  with  Bri- 
dlesley,  had  officiously  interfered  with  his  advice  and. 
opinion.  Displeased  at  having  the  company  of  any 
stranger  forced  upon  him,  Peveril  was  still  less  satisfied 
to  find  one  who  might  make  some  claim  of  acquaint- 
ance with  him,  however  slender,  since  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  stood,  compelled  him  to  be  as  reserved  as 
possible.  He  therefore  turned  his  back  upon  his  desti- 
ned messmate,  and  pretended  to  amuse  himself  by  look 


PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK.  277 

ing  out  of  the  window,  determined  to   avoid  all  inter- 
course until  it  should  be  inevitably  forced  upon  him. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  other  stranger  went  straight 
up  to  the  landlady,  where  she  toiled  on  household  cares 
intent,  and  demanded  of  her,  what  she  meant  by  prepa- 
ring bacon  and  eggs,  when  he  had  positively  charged 
her  to  get  nothing  ready  but  the  fish. 

The  good  woman,  important  as  every  cook  in  the 
discharge  of  her  duty,  deigned  not  for  some  time  so 
much  as  to  acknowledge  that  she  heard  the  reproof  of 
her  guest ;  and  when  she  did  so,  it  was  only  to  repel  it 
in  a  magisterial  and  authoritative  tone. — "  If  he  did  not 
like  bacon — (bacon  from  tkeir  own  hitch,  well  fed  on 
peas  and  bran) — if  he  did  not  like  bacon  and  eggs-^ 
(new-laid  eggs,  which  she  had  brought  in  from  the  heri- 
roost  with  her  own  hands) — why  so  put  case — it  was 
the  worse  for  his  honour,  and  the  better  for  those  who 
did." 

"  The  better  for  those  who  like  them  ?"  answered  the 
guest ;  "  that  is  as  mt£b  as  to  say  I  am  to  have  a  com- 
panion, good  woman." 

11  Do  not  good  woman  me,  sir,"  replied  the  miller's 
wife,  "  till  I  call  you  good  man ;  and,  I  promise  you, 
many  would  scruple  to  do  that  to  one  who  does  not  love 
eggs  and  bacon  of  a  Friday." 

"Nay,  my  good  lady,"  said  her  guest,  "do  not  fix 
any  misconstruction  upon  me — I  dare  say  the  eggs  and 
the  bacon  are  excellent;  only,  they  are  rather  a  dish  too 
heavy  for  my  stomach." 
^^"  Ay,  or  your  conscience,  perhaps,  sir,"  answered  the 
■Pstess.  "  And  now  I  bethink  me,  you  must  needs  have 
your  fish  fried  with  oil,  instead  of  the  good  drippings  I 
was  going  to  put  to  them.  I  would  I  could  spell  the 
meaning  of  all  this  now :  but  I  warrant  John  Bigstaff, 
the  constable,  could  conjure  something  out  of  it." 

There  was  a^pause  here ;  but  Julian,  somewhat  alarm- 
ed at  the  tone  which  the  conversation  assumed,  became 
interested  in  watching  the  dumb  show  which  succeeded. 
By  bringing  his  head  a  little  towards  the  left,  but  with- 
out turning  round,  or  quitting  the  projecting  latticed  win- 

Vol.  I.  24 


378  PEVERIL  OP  f  HE  PEAK. 

dow  where  he  had  taken  his  station,  he  could  observe 
that  the  stranger,  secured,  as  he  seemed  to  think  himself, 
from  observation,  had  sidled  close  up  to  the  landlady ; 
and,  as  he  conceived,  had  put  a  piece  of  money  into  her 
hand.  The  altered  tone  of  the  miller's  moiety  corres- 
ponded very  much  with  this  supposition. 
ft  "  Nay,  indeed,  and  forsooth,"  she  said,  "  her  house 
was  Liberty-hall ;  and  so  should  every  publican's  be. 
What  was  it  to  her  what  gentlefolks  ate  or  drank,  pro- 
viding they  paid  for  it  honestly  ?  There  were  many 
honest  gentlemen,  whose  stomachs  could  not  abide  ba- 
con, grease,  or  dripping,  especially  on  a  Friday ;  and 
what  was  that  to  her,  or  any  one  in  her  line,  so  gentle- 
folks paid  honesth'  for  the  trouble  ?  Only,  she  would 
%ay,  that  her  bacon  and  eggs  could  not  be  mended  be- 
twixt this  and  Liverpool ;  and  that  she  would  live  and 
die  upon." 

"  I  shall  hardly  dispute  it,"  said  the  stranger ;  and 
turning  towards  Julian,  he  added,  "I  wish  this  gentle- 
man, who  I  suppose  is  my  trencher  companion,  much 
joy  of  the  dainties  which  I  cannot  assist  him  in  con- 
suming." 

"I  assure  you,  sir,"  answered  Peveril,  who  now  felt 
himself  compelled  to  turn  about,  and  reply  with  civility, 
"  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  prevail  on  my  land- 
lady to  add  my  cover  to  yours,  though  she  seems  now 
such  a  zealot  for  the  consumption  of  eggs  and  bacon." 

"I  am  zealous  for  nothing,"  said  the  landlady,  "  save 
that  men  would  eat  their  victuals,  and  pay  their  score ; 
and  if  there  be  enough  in  one  dish  to  serve  two  guests,!^ 
see  little  purpose  in  dressing  them  two ;  however,  the^ij 
are  ready  now.  and  done  to  a  nicety. — Here,  Alice ! 
Alice !" 

The  sound  of  that  well-known  name  made  Julian  start; 
but  the  Alice  who  replied  to  the  call  ill  resembled  the 
vision  which  his  imagination  connected  with  the  accents, 
being  a  dowdy  slip-shod  wench,  the  drudge  of  the  low 
inn  which  afforded  him  shelter.  She  assisted  her  mis- 
tress in  putting  on  the  table  the  dishes  which  the  latter 
had  prepared  5  and  a  foaming  jug  of  home-brewed  ale 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK,  279 

being  placed  betwixt  them,  was  warranted  by  dame 
Whitecraft  as  excellent;  "for,"  said  she,  "we  know  by 
practice  that  too  much  water  drowns  the  miller,  and  we 
>pare  it  on  our  malt  as  we  would  in  our  mill-dam." 

"  I  drink  to  your  health  in  it,  dame,"  said  the  elder 
stranger;  "  and  a  cup  of  thanks  for  these  excellent  fish  : 
and  to  the  drowning  of  all  unkindness  between  us." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  dame,  "  and  wish  you 
the  like ;  but  I  dare  not  pledge  you,  for  our  Gaffer  says, 
the  ale  is  brewed  too  strong  for  women  ;  so  I  only  drink 
a  glass  of  canary  at  a  time  with  a  gossip,  or  any  gentle- 
man guest  that  is  so  minded." 

11  You  shall  drink  one  with  me  then,  dame,"  said  Pe- 
veril,  "so  you  will  let  me  have  a  flagon." 

"  That  you  shall,  sir,  and  as  good  as  ever  was  broach- 
ed ;  but  I  must  to  the  mill,  to  get  the  key  from  the  good 
man." 

So  saying,  and  tucking  her  clean  gown  through  the 
pocket-holes,  that  her  steps  might  be  the  more  alert,  and 
her  dress  escape  dust,  off  she  tripped  to  the  mill,  which 
lay  close  adjoining. 

"  A  dainty  dame,  and  dangerous,  is  the  miller's  wife*" 
.-aid  the  stranger,  looking  at  Peveril.  "  Is  not  that  old 
Chaucer's  phrase  ?" 

"  I — I  believe  so,'?  said  Peveril,  not  much  read  in 
Chaucer,  who  was  then  even  more  neglected  than  at  pre- 
sent ;  and  much  surprised  at  a  literary  quotation  from 
one  of  the  mean  appearance  exhibited  by  the  person 
-before  him.  *  m* 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  stranger,  "  I  see  that  you,  like 
other  young  gentlemen  of  the  time,  are  better  acquaint- 
ed with  Cowley  and  Waller,  than  with  the  i  well  of  Eng- 
lish undcfiled.*  I  cannot  help  differing.  There  are 
touches  of  nature  about  the  old  bard  of  Woodstock,  that, 
to  me,  are  worth  all  the  turns  of  laborious  wit  in  Cow- 
ley, and  all  the  ornate  and  artificial  simplicity  of  his 
courtly  competitor.  The  description,  for  instance,  of 
his  country  coquette — 

4  Wincing  she  was,  as  is  a  wanton  colt, 
Sweet  as  a  flower,  and  upright  as  a  bol'/ 


280  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

Then  again,  for  pathos,  where  will  you  mend  the  dying 
scene  of  Arcitef 

«  Alas,  my  heartis  queen  !  alas,  my  wife  ! 
Giver  at  once,  and  ender  of  my  life. 
What  is  this  world  ? — What  axen  men  to  have  ; 
IN'ow  with  his  love — now  in  his  cold  grave 
Alone,  withouten  other  company.' 

But  I  tire  you,  sir  ;  and  do  injustice  to  the  poet,  whom  I 
remember  but  by  halves." 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,"  replied  Peveril,  "you  make 
him  more  intelligible  to  me  in  your  recitation,  than  I 
found  him  when  I  have  tried  to  peruse  him  myself." 

u  You  were  only  frightened  by  the  antiquated  spelling 
and  i  the  letters  black,'  "  said  his  companion.  "  It  i< 
many  a  scholar's  case,  who  mistakes  a  nut,  which  he 
could  crack  with  a  little  exertion,  for  a  bullet,  which  he 
must  needs  break  his  teeth  on  ;  but  yours  are  better  em- 
ployed.— Shall  I  offer  you  some  of  this  fish?" 

"  Not  so,  sir,"  replied  Julian,  willing  to  sho#  himself 
a  man  of  reading  in  his  turn  ;  "  I  hold  with  old  Caius. 
and  profess  a  fine  judgment,  to  fight  where  I  cannot 
chuse,  and  to  eat  no  fish." 

The  stranger  cast  a  started  look  around  him  at  this 
observation,  which  Julian  had  thrown  out,  on  purpose 
to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  quality  of  his  companion., 
whose  present  language  was  so  different  from  the  cha- 
racter he  had  assumed  at  Bridlesley's.  His  countenance., 
too,  although  the  features  were  of  an  ordinary,  not  to 
say  mean  cast,  had  that  character  of  intelligence  which 
education  gives  to  the  most  homely  face  ;  and  his  man- 
ners were  so  easy  and  disembarrassed,  as  plainly  showed 
a  complete  acquaintance  with  society,  as  well  as  the  ha- 
bit of  mingling  with  it  in  the  higher  stages.  The  alarm 
which  he  had  evidently  shown  at  PeveriPs  answer,  wa> 
but  momentary  ;  for  he  almost  instantly  replied,  with  a 
.-mile,  "  I  promise  you,  sir,  that  you  are  in  no  danger- 
ous company  ;  for  notwithstanding  my  fish  dinner,  I  am 
much  disposed  to  trifle  with  some  of  your  savoury  mess, 
if  you  will  indulge  me  so  far." 

■ 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK*  261 

Peveril  accordingly  reinforced  the  stranger's  trencher 
with  what  remained  of  the  bacon  and  eggs,  and  saw 
him  swallow  a  mouthful  or  two  with  apparent  relish  ;  but 
presently  after,  began  to  dally  with  his  knife  and  fork, 
like  one  whose  appetite  was  satiated  ;  then  took  a  long 
draught  of  the  blackjack,  and  handed  his  platter  to  the 
large  mastiff  dog,  who,  attracted  by  the  smell  of  the 
dinner,  had  sate  before  him  for  some  time  licking  hi? 
chops,  and  following  with  his  eye  every  morsel  which 
the  guest  raised  to  his  head. 

"  Here,  my  poor  fellow,"  said  he,  "  thou  hast  had  no 
fish,  and  needest  this  supernumerary  trencher-load  more 
than  I  do.  I  cannot  withstand  thy  mute  supplication 
any  longer." 

The  dog  answered  these  courtesies  by  a  civil  shake  of 
the  tail,  while  he  gobbled  up  what  was  assigned  him  by 
the  stranger's  benevolence,  in  the  greater  haste,  that  he 
heard  his  mistress's  voice  at  the  door. 

"  H£re  is  the  canary,  gentlemen,"  said  the  landlady  : 
u  and  the  goodman  has  set  off  the  mill,  to  come  to  wait 
on  you  himself.  He  always  does  so,  when  company 
drink  wine.'" 

"  That  he  may  come  in  for  the  host's,  that  is,  for  the 
lion's  shore,"  said  the  stranger,  looking  at  Peveril. 

"  The  shot  is  mine,"  said  Julian  ;  "  and  if  mine  host 
will  share  it,  I  will  willingly  bestow  another  quart  on 
him,  and  on  you,  sir.     I  never  break  old  customs." 

These  sounds  caught  the  ear  of  Gaffer  Whitecrafl, 
who  had  entered  the  room,  a  strapping  specimen  of 
his  robust  trade,  prepared  to  play  the  civil,  or  the 
surly  host,  as  his  company  should  be  acceptable  or 
otherwise.  At  Julian's  invitation,  he  doffed  his  dusty 
bonnet — brushed  from  his  sleeve  the  looser  particles  of 
his  professional  dust — and  sitting  down  on  the  end  of  a 
bench,  about' a  yard  from  the  table,  filled  a  glass  of  ca> 
nary  and  drank  to  his  guests,  and  "  especially  to  this  np- 
ble  gentleman,"  indicating  Peveril,  who  had  ordered  tftc 
canary. 


I 


24? 


282  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

Julian  returned  the  courtesy  by  drinking  his  health/ 
aud  asking  what  news  were  about  in  the  country. 

"  Nought,  sir,  I  hears  on  nought,  except  this  plot,  a? 
they  call  it,  that  they  are  pursuing  the  Papishers  about : 
but  it  brings  water  to  my  mill,  as  the  saying  is.  Be- 
tween expresses  hurrying  hither  and  thither,  and  guards 
and  prisoners  riding  to  and  again,  and  the  custom  of  the 
neighbours,  that  come  to  speak  over  the  news  of  an  even- 
ing, nightly  I  may  say,  instead  of  once  a-week,  why  the 
spiggot  is  in  use,  gentlemen,  and  your  landlord  thrives  j 
and  then  I,  serving  as  constable,  and  being  a  known 
Protestant,  I  have  tapped,  I  may  venture  to  say,  it  may 
be  ten  stands  of  ale  extraordinary,  besides  a  reasonable 
sale  of  wine  for  a  country  corner.  Heaven  make  us 
thankful,  and  keep  all  good  Protestant's  from  plot  and 
Popery  !" 

"  I  can  easily  conceive,  my  friend,"  said  Julian, 
"  that  curiosity  is  a  passion  which  runs  naturally  to  the 
alehouse  ;  and  that  anger,  and  jealousy,  and  fear,  are 
all  of  them  thirsty  passions,  and  great  consumers  of 
home  brewed.  But  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  in  thesr 
parts  ;  and  I  would  willingly  learn,  from  a  sensible  man 
like  you,  a  little  of  this  same  plot,  of  which  men  speak 
so  much,  and  appear  to  know  so  little." 

'•'  Learn  a  little  of  it  ? — Why,  it  is  the  most  horrible — 
the  most  damnable  blood-thirsty  beast  of  a  plot — But 
hold,  hold,  my  good  master  ;  I  hope,  in  the  first  place, 
you  believe  there  is  a  plot  ?  for,  otherwise,  the  justice 
must  have  a  word  with  you,  so  sure  as  my  name  is  John 
Whitecraft." 

"  It  shall  not  need,"  said  Peveril  ;  "  for  I  assure  you, 
mine  host,  I  believe  in  the  plot  as  freely  and  fully  as  a 
man  can  believe  in  any  thing  he  cannot  understand." 

"  God  forbid  that  any  body  should  pretend  to  underr 
stand  it,"  said  the  implicit  constable  ;  "  for  his  worship 
the  justice  says  it  is  a  mile  beyond  him  ;  and  he  be  as 
deep  as  most  of  them.  But  men  may  believe,  though 
tbey  do  not  understand  ;  and  that  is  what  the  Romanist- 
Say  themselves.  But  this  I  am  sure  of,  it  makes  a  rare 
stirring  time  for  justices,  and  witnesses,  and  constables. 


FEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  283 

— So  here's  to  your  health  again,  gentlemen,  in  a  cup  of 
neat  canary." 

"  Come,  come,  John  Whitecraft,',  said  his  wife,  "  dO 
not  you  demean  yourself  by  naming  witnesses  along  with 
justices  and  constables.  All  the  world  knows  how  they 
come  by  their  mone}'." 

"  Ay,  but  all  the  world  knows  that  they  do  come  by  if, 
dame :  and  that  is  a  great  comfort.  They  rustle  in  their 
canonical  silks,  and  swagger  in  their  buff  and  scarlet, 
who  but  they  f — Ay,  ay,  the  cursed  fox  thieves — and 
not  so  cursed  neither.  Is  there  not  Doctor  Titus  Oates* 
the  saviour  of  the  nation — does  he  not  live  at  Whitehall, 
and  eat  off  plate,  and  have  a  pension  of  thousands  a  year, 
for  what  I  know  ?  and  is  he  not  to  be  Bishop  of  Litch- 
field, so  soon  as  Doctor  Doddrum  dies  ?" 

ft  Then  I  hope  Doctor  Doddrum's  reverence  will  live 
these  twenty  years  ;  and  I  dare  say  I  am  the  first  that 
ever  wished  such  a  wish,n  said  the  hostess.  "  I  do  not 
understand  these  doings,  not  I ;  and  if  a  hundred  Jesuits 
came  to  hold  a  consult  at  my  house,  as  they  did  at  the 
White  Horse  Tavern,  I  should  think  it  quite  out  of  the 
line  of  business  to  bear  witness  against  them,  provided 
ijiey  drank  well,  and  paid  their  scoiye." 

"  Very  true,  dame,"  said  her  elder  guest  ;  "that  is 
what  I  call  keeping  a  good  publican  conscience  ;  and  so 
I  will  pay  score  presently,  and  be  jogging  on  my  way." 

Peverilj  on  his  part,  also  demanded  a  reckoning,  and 
discharged  it  so  liberally,  that  the  miller  flourished  his 
hat  as  he  bowed,  and  the  hostess  curtsied  down  to  the 
ground. 

The  horses  of  both  guests  were  brought  forth  ;  and  they 
mounted  in  order  to  depart  in  company.  The  host  and 
hostess  stood  in  the  door,  to  see  them  depart.  The  land- 
lord proffered  a  stirrup-cup  to  the  elder  guest,  while  the 
landlady  offeredPevenl  a  glass  from  her  own  peculiar  bot- 
tle. For  this  purpose,  she  mounted  on  the  horse-block, 
with  flask  and  glass  in  hand  ;  so  that  it  was  easy  for  the 
departing  guest,  although  on  horseback,  to  return  the 
courtesy  in  the  most  approved  manner,  namely,  by 
throwing  his  arm  over  his  landlady's  shoulder,  and  Salu- 
ting her  at  parting.; 


2B4  PEVERIL    OF    TnE   TEAS. 

Dame  Whitecraft  could  not  decline  this  familiarity  ; 
for  there  is  no  room  for  traversing  upon  a  horse-block, 
and  the  hands  which  might  have  served  her  for  resis- 
tance, were  occupied  with  glass  and  bottle — matters  too 
precious  to  be  thrown  away  in  such  a  struggle.  Ap- 
parently, however,  she  had  something  else  in  her  head  £ 
for,  as,  after  a  brief  affectation  of  reluctance,  she  permit- 
ted Peveril's  face  to  approach  her's,  she  whispered  in  his 
ear,  "  Beware  of  trapans!" — an  awful  intimation,  which 
in  those  days  of  distrust,  suspicion  and  treachery,  was 
as  effectual  in  interdicting  free  and  social  intercourse,  a> 
the  advertisement  of  "  man-traps  and  spring-guns, "  to 
protect  an  orchard.  Pressing  her  hand,  in  intimation  that 
lie  comprehended  her  hint,  she  shook  his  warmly  in  re- 
turn, and  bade  God  speed  him.  There  was  a  cloud  on 
John  Whitecraft's  brow  f  nor  did  his  final  farewell  sound 
half  so  cordial  as  that  which  had  been  spoken  within 
doors.  But  then  Peveril  reflected,  that  the  same  guest  is 
not  always  equally  acceptable  to  landlord  and  landlady  : 
and  unconscious  of  having  done  any  thing  to  excite  the 
miller's  displeasure,  he  pursued  his  journey  without  think- 
ing farther  of  the  matter. 

Julian  was  a  little  suprised,  and  not  altogether  pleased, 
to  find  that  his  new  acquaintance  held  the  same  road 
with  him.  He  had  many  reasons  for  wishing  to  travel 
alone  ;  and  the  hostess's  caution  still  rung  in  his  ears.  If 
this  man,  possessed  of  so  much  shrewdness  as  his  coun- 
tenance and  conversation  intimated,  versatile,  as  he  had 
occasion  to  remark,  and  disguised  beneath  his  condition^ 
should  prove,  as  was  likely,  to  be  a  concealed  Jesuit  or 
seminary-priest,  travelling  upon  their  great  task  of  the 
conversion  of  England,  and  rooting  out  of  the  Northern 
heresy — a  more  dangerous  companion,  for  a  person  in 
his  own  circumstances,  could  hardly  be  imagined  ;  since 
keeping  society  with  him  might  seem  to  authorize  what- 
ever reports  had  been  spread  concerning  the  attachment 
of  his  family  to  the  Catholic  cause.  At  the  same  time, 
it  was  very  difficult,  without  actual  rudeness,  to  shake  off 
the  company  of  one  who  seemed  determined,  whether 
spoken  to  or  not,  to  remain  along-side  of  him, 


along-sic 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  285 

Peveril  tried  the  experiment  of  riding  slow  ;  but  his 
companion,  determined  not  to  drop  him,  slackened  his 
pace,  so  as  to  keep  close  by  him.  Julian  then  spurred 
his  horse  to  a  full  trot ;  and  was  soon  satisfied,  tha£  the 
stranger,  notwithstanding  the  meanness  of  his  appear- 
ance, was  so  much  better  mounted  than  himself,  as  to  ren- 
der vain  any  thoughts  of  outriding  him.  He  pulled  up 
his  horse  to  a  more  reasonable  pace,  therefore,  in  a  sort  of 
despair.  Upon  his  doing  so,  his  companion,  who  had 
been  hitherto  silent,  observed,  that  Peveril  was  not  so 
well  qualified  to  try  speed  upon  the  road,  as  he  would 
have  been  had  he  abode  by  his  first  bargain  of  horse- 
flesh that  morning. 

Peveril  assented  drily,  but  observed,  that  the  animal 
would  serve  his  immediate  purpose,  though  he  feared 
it  would  render  him  indifferent  company  for  a  person  bet- 
ter mounted. 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  his  civil  companion;  "I 
am  one  of  those  who  have  travelled  so  much,  as  to  be  ac- 
customed to  make  my  journey  at  any  rate  of  motion 
which  may  be  most  agreeable  to  my  company." 

Peveril  made  no  reply  to  this  polite  intimation,  being 
too  sincere  to  tender  the  thanks  which,  in  courtesy,  were 
the  proper  answer. — A  second  pause  ensued,  which  was 
broken  by  Julian  asking  the  stranger  whether  their  roads 
were  likely  to  lie  long  together  in  the  same  direction. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling,  "unless  I 
knew  which  way  you  were  travelling." 

"  I  am  uncertain  how  far  I  shall  go  to-night,"  said  Ju* 
lian,  willingly  misunderstanding  the  purport  of  the  re- 

"  And  so  am  I,"  replied  the  stranger ;  "  but  though 
my  horse  goes  better  than  yours,  I  think  it  will  be  wise 
to  spare  him  ;  and  in  case  our  road  continues  to  lie  the 
same  way,  we  are  like  to  sup,  as  we  have  dined  toge* 
ther." 

Julian  made  no  answer  whatever  to  this  round  intima- 
tion, but  continued  to  ride  on,  turning,  in  his  own  mind, 
whether  it  would  not  be  wisest  to  come  to  a  distinct  ex- 


* 


286  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

planation  with  his  pertinacious  attendant,  and  to  explain... 
in  so  many  words,  that  it  was  his  pleasure  to  travel 
alone.  But,  besides,  that  the  sort  of  acquaintance  which 
they  had  formed  during  dinner,  rendered  him  unwilling 
to  be  directly  uncivil  towards  a  person  of  gentlemanlike 
manners,  he  had  also  to  consider  that  he  might  very  pos- 
sibly be  mistaken  in  this  man's  character  and  purpose  ; 
in  which  case,  the  cynically  refusing  the  society  of  a 
sound  Protestant,  would  afford  as  pregnant  matter  of 
suspicion,  as  travelling  in  company  with  a  disguised 
Jesuit. 

After  brief  reflection,  therefore,  he  resolved  to  endure 
the  incumbrance  of  the  stranger's  society,  until  a  fair  op- 
portunity should  occur  to  rid  himself  of  it ;  and,  in  the 
mean  time,  to  act  with  as  much  caution  as  he  possibly 
could,  in  any  communication  that  might  take  place  be- 
tween them  ;  for  Dame  Whitecraft's  parting  caution  still 
rang  anxiously  in  his  ears,  and  the  consequences  of  his 
own  arrest  upon  suspicion,  must  deprive  him  of  every 
opportunity  of  serving  his  father,  or  the  Countess,  or 
Major  Bridgenorth,  upon  whose  interest,  also,  he  had 
promised  himself  to  keep  an  eye. 

While  he  revolved  these  things  in  his  mind,  they  had 
journeyed  several  miles  without  speaking ;  and  now  en* 
lered  upon  a  more  waste  country,  and  worse  roads,  than 
they  had  hitherto  found,  being,  in  fact,  approaching  the 
more  hilly  county  of  Derbyshire.  In  travelling  on  a 
very  stony  and  uneven  lane,  Julian's  horse  repeatedly 
stumbled  j  and  had  he  not  been  supported  by  the  rider's 
judicious  use  of  aid  and  bit,  must  at  length  certainly 
have  fallen  under  him. 

"These  are  times  which  crave  wary  riding,  sir,"  said 
his  companion  ;  "  and  by  your  seat  in  the  saddle,  and 
your  hand  on  the  rein,  you  seem  to  understand  it." 

"  I  have  been  long  a  horseman,'  sir,"  answered  Pe~ 
veril. 

"  And  long  a  traveller  too,  sir,  I  should  suppose ; 
since,    by  the  great  caution  you  observe,   you  seem  ta 


• 


PEVERIL    OF   THE    PEAK.  287 

ibink  the  human  tongue  requires  a  curb,  as  well  as  the 
horse's  jaws." 

"  Wiser  men  than  I  have  been  of  opinion,"  answered 
Peveril,  "  that  it  were  a  part  of  prudence  to  be  silent, 
when  men  have  little  or  nothing  to  say." 

"  I  cannot  approve  of  their  opinion,"  answered  the 
stranger.  "  All  knowledge  is  gained  by  communica- 
tion, either  with  the  dead,  through  books,  or,  more  plea- 
singly, through  the  conversation  of  the  living.  The 
deaf  and  dumb,  alone,  are  excluded  from  improvement : 
and  surely  their  situation  is  not  so  enviable  that  we 
should  imitate  them." 

At  this  illustration,  which  wakened  a  startling  echo  in 
Peveril's  bosom,  the  young  man  looked  hard  at  his  com- 
panion ;  but  in  the  composed  countenance,  and  calm 
blue  eye,  he  read  no  consciousness  of  a  farther  meaning 
than  the  words  immediately  and  directly  implied.  He 
paused  a  moment,  and  then  answered,  "  You  seem  to  be 
a  person,  sir,  of  shrewd  apprehension ;  and  I  should 
have  thought  it  might  have  occurred  to  you,  that  in  the 
present  suspicious  times,  men  may,  without  censure, 
avoid  communication  with  strangers.  You  know  not 
me ;  and  to  me  you  are  totally  unknown.  There  is  not 
room  for  much  discourse  between  us,  without  trespassing 
on  the  general  topics  of  the  day,  which  carry  in  them 
seeds  of  quarrel  between  friends,  much  more  betwixt 
strangers.  At  any  other  time,  the  society  of  an  intelli- 
gent companion  would  have  been  most  acceptable  upon 
my  solitary  ride  ;  but  at  present " 

"  At  present !"  said  the  other,  interrupting  him  ;  "  you 
are  like  the  old  Romans,  who  held  that  hostis  meant  both 
a  stranger  and  an  enemy.  I  will  therefore  be  no  longer 
a  stranger.  My  name  is  Ganlesse — by  profession  I  am 
a  Roman  Catholic  priest — I  am  travelling  here  in  dread 
of  my  life — and  I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  for  a  com- 
panion." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  information,  with  all  my  heart,'1 
said  Peveril ;  "  and  to  avail  myself  of  it  to  the  utter* 


288  PEVE&IL    OF    THE    TEAK* 

most,  I  must  beg  of  you  to  ride  forward,  or  lag  behind, 
or  take  a  side  path,  at  your  own  pleasure  ;  for,  as  I  am 
no  Catholic,  and  travel  upon  business  of  high  concern- 
ment, 1  am  exposed  both  to  risk  and  delay,  and  even  to 
danger,  by  keeping  such  suspicious  company.  And  so, 
Master  Ganlesse,  keep  your  own  pace,  and  I  will  keep 
the  contrary  ;  for  I  beg  leave  to  forbear  your  company.*' 

As  Peveril  spoke  thus,  he  pulled  up  his  horse,  and 
made  a  full  stop. 

The  stranger  burst  out  a-laughing.  "  What !"  he 
said,  "  you  forbear  my  company  for  a  trifle  of  danger  ? 
Saint  Anthony  !  How  the  warm  blood  of  the  Cavaliers 
is  chilled  in  the  young  men  of  the  present  day  !  This 
young  gallant,  now,  has  a  father,  I  warrant  you,  who 
has  endured  as  many  adventures  for  hunted  priests,  as  a 
knight-errant  for  distressed  damsels." 

"  This  raillery  avails  nothing,  sir,"  said  Peveril.  "  I 
must  request  you  will  keep  your  own  way." 

"  My  way  is  yours,"  said  the  pertinacious  Master  Gan- 
lesse, as  he  called  himself;  "  and  we  will  both  travel  the 
Safer,  that  we  journey  in  company.  I  have  the  receipt 
of  fern-seed,  man,  and  walk  invisible.  Besides,  you 
would  not  have  me  quit  you  in  this  lane,  where  there  is 
no  turn  to  right  or  left  f " 

Peveril  moved  on,  desirous  to  avoid  open  violence ; 
for  which  the  indifferent  tone  of  the  traveller,  indeed, 
afforded  no  apt  pretext ;  yet  highly  disliking  his  com- 
pany, and  determined  to  take  the  first  opportunity  to  rid 
himself  of  it. 

The  stranger  proceeded  the  same  pace  with  him. 
keeping  cautiously  on  his  bridle-hand,  as  if  to  secure 
that  advantage  in  case  of  a  struggle.  But  his  language 
did  not  intimate  the  least  apprehension.  "  You  do  me 
wrong,"  he  said  to  Peveril,  "  and  you  equally  wrong 
yourself.  -You  are  uncertain  where  to  lodge  to-night — 
trust  to  my  guidance.  Here  is  an  ancient  hall,  within  four 
miles,  with  an  old  knightly  Pantaloon  for  its  lord — an 
all-be-ruffed  Dame  Barbara  for  the  lady  gay — a  Jesuit,  in 
a  butler's  habit,  to  say  grace — an  old  tale  of  Edgehill  and 


m 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  289 

Worcester  fights  to  relish  a  cold  venison  pasty,  and  a 
flask  of  claret  mantled  with  cobwebs — a  bed  for  you  in 
the  priest's  hiding  hole — and,  for  aught  I  know,  pretty 
Mistress  Betty,  the  dairy-maid  to  make  it  ready." 

"  This  has  no  charms  for  me,  sir,"  said  Pevcril,  who, 
in  spite  of  himself,  could  not  but  be  amused  with  the 
ready  sketch  which  the  stranger  gave  of  many  an  old 
mansion  in  Cheshire  and  Derbyshire,  where  the  owners 
retained  the  ancient  faith  of  Rome. 

"  Well,  I  see  I  cannot  charm  you  in  this  way,"  conti- 
nued his  companion  ;  "  I  must  strike  another  key.  I  am 
no  longer  Ganlesse,  the  seminary  priest,  but  (changing 
his  tone,  and  snuffling  in  the  nose)  Simon  Canter,  a  poor 
preacher  of  the  word,  who  travels  this  way  to  call  sin- 
ners to  repentance  ;  and  to  strengthen,  and  to  edify,  and 
to  fructify,  among  the  scattered  remnant,  who  hold  fast 
the  truth. — What  say  you  to  this,  sir  ?" 

"  I  admire  your  versatility,  sir,  and  could  be  entertain- 
ed with  it  at  another  time.  At  present,  sincerity  is 
more  in  request." 

"  Sincerity !"  said  the  stranger ; — "  A  child's  whistle, 
with  but  two  notes  in  it — yea,  yea,  and  nay,  nay.  Why, 
man,  the  very  Quakers  have  renounced  it,  and  have  got 
in  its  stead  a  gailant  recorder,  called  Hypocrisy,  that  is 
somewhat  like  Sincerity  in  form,  but  of  much  greater 
compass,  and  combines  the  whole  gamut.  Come,  be 
ruled — be  a  disciple  of  Simon  Canter  for  the  evening, 
and  we  will  leave  the  old  tumble-down  castle  of  the 
knight  aforesa  d,  on  the  left  hand,  for  a  new  brick-built 
mansion,  erected  by  an  eminent  salt-boiler  from  Nampt- 
wich,  who  expects  the  said  Simon  to  make  a  strong  spi- 
ritual pickle  for  the  preservation  of  a  soul  somewhat  cor- 
rupted by  the  evil  communications  of  this  wicked  world. 
What  say  you  ?  He  has  two  daughters — brighter  eyes" 
never  beamed  under  a  pinched  hood  ;  and  for  myself,  I 
think  there  is  more  fire  in  those  who  live  only  to  love 
and  to  devotion,  than  in  your  court  beauties,  whose  hearts 
are  running  on  twenty  follies  beside.  You  know  not  the 
pleasure  of  being  conscience-keeper  to  a  pretty  precisian, 
who  in  one  breath  repeats  her  foibles,  and  in  the  next 
confesses  her  passion.     Perhaps,  though,  you  may  have 

vol.  i.  2$ 


290  PEVERIL    OP    THE    FEAK. 

known  such  in  your  clay  ?  Come,  sir,  it  grows  loo  dark  to 
see  your  blushes  ;  but  I  am  6ure  they  are  burning  on 
your  cheek." 

"  You  take  great  freedom,  sir,"  said  Peveril,  as  they 
now  approached  the  end  of  the  lane,  where  it  opened  on 
abroad  common  :  "and  you  seem  rather  to  count  more 
on  my  forbearance,  than  you  have  room  to  do  with  safe- 
ty. We  are  now  nearly  free  of  the  lane  which  has  made 
us  companions  for  this  last  half  hour.  To  avoid  your 
further  company,  I  will  take  the  turn  to  the  left,  upon 
that  common  ;  and  if  you  follow  me,  it  shall  be  at  your 
peril.  Observe,  I  am  well  armed  ;  and  you  will  light  at 
odds." 

"  Not  at  odds,"  returned  the  provoking  stranger, 
"  while  I  have  my  brown  jennet,  with  which  I  can  ride 
round  and  around  you  at  pleasure;  and  this  text,  of  a 
handful  in  length,  (showing  a  pistol,  which  he  drew  from 
his  bosom. )  which  discharges  very  convincing  doctrine  on 
the  pressure  of  a  forefinger,  and  is  apt  to  equalize  all 
odds,  as  you  call  them,  of  youth  and  strength.  Let 
there  be  no  strife  between  us,  however — the  moor  lies 
before  us — choose  your  path  on  it — I  take  the  other." 

"  i  wish  you  good  night,  sir,"  said  Peveril  to  the 
stranger.  "  I  ask  your  forgiveness,  if  I  have  misconstrued 
you  in  any  thing;  but  the  times  are  perilous,  and  a 
man's  life  may  depend  on  the  society  in  which  he  tra- 
vels." 

"True,"  said  the  stranger;  "but  in  your  case,  the 
danger  is  already  undergone,  and  you  should  seek  to 
counteract  it.  You  have  travelled  in  my  company  long 
enough  to  devise  a  handsome  branch  of  the  Popish  Plot. 
How  will  you  iook,  when  you  see  come  forth,  in  comely 
folio  form.  The  narrative  of  Simon  Canter,  otherwise 
called  Stephen  Ganlesse,  concerning  the  horrid  Popish 
Conspiracy  for  the  Murther  of  the  King,  and  Massacre  of 
all  Protestants,  as  given  on  oath  to  the  Honourable  House 
of  Commons ;  setting  forth,  how  far  Julian  Peveril, 
younger  of  Martindale  Castle,  is  concerned  in  carrying 
on  the  same — " 

"How,  sir?  What  mean  you?"  said  Peveril.  much 
startled. 


PEVER1L    OP    THE    PEAK.  291 

"  Nay,  sir,*'  replied  his  companion,  "  do  not  interrupt 
my  title-page.  Now  that  Oatesand  Bedloe  have  drawn 
the  great  prizes,  the  subordinate  discoverers  get  little  but 
by  the  sale  of  their  narrative  ;  and  Janeway,  Newman. 
Simmons,  and  every  bookseller  of  them,  will  tell  you 
that  the  title  is  half  the  narrative.  Mine  shall  therefore 
set  forth  the  various  schemes  you  have  communicated 
to  me,  of  landing  ten  tnousand  soldiers  from  the  Isle  of 
Man  upon  the  coast  of  Lancashire ;  and  marching  into 
Wales,  to  join  the  tea  thousand  pilgrims  who  are  to  be 
shipped  from  Spam  ;  and  so  compieting  the  destruction 
of  the  Protestant  religion,  and  of  the  devoted  city  of 
London.  Truly,  I  think  such  a  narrative,  well  spiced 
with  a  few  horrors,  and  published  cum  pririlegio parlia- 
menii.  might,  though  the  market  be  somewhat  overstock- 
ed, be  stiil  worth  some  twenty  or  thirty  pieces." 

"  You  seem  :o  know  me,  sir,"  said  PevenI ;  ;;  and  if 
-o.  I  think  1  ma;,  fairly  ask  you  your  purpose  in  thus 
bearing  me  company,  and  the  meaning  of  ah  this  rhapso- 
dy. If  it  oe  mere  banter,  I  can  endure  it  within  proper 
limit ;  aitho  ugh  it  is  uncivil  on  the  part  of  a  stranger.  It 
you  have  an}  furthur  purpose,  speak  it  out ;  I  am  not  to 
be  trifled  with." 

"  Good,  now,'?  said  the  stranger,  laughing,  "  into  what 
an  unprofitable  chafe  you  have  put  yourself!  An  Italian 
fuoruscito,  when  he  desires  a  parley  with  you,  takes  aim 
from  behind  a  waU  with  his  long  gun,  and  prefaces  his 
conference  with  Possg  tirare.  So  does  your  man-of-war 
fire  a  gun  across  the  bows  of  a  Hans-mogan  Indiaman, 
just  to  bring  her  to  ;  and  so  do  I  show  Master  Julian  Pe- 
veril,  that,  if  I  were  one  of  the  honourable  society  of 
witnesses  and  info;.  ?rs,  with  whom  his  imagination  has 
associated  me  for  these  two  hours  past,  he  is  as  much 
within  my  danger  now,  as  what  he  is  ever  hkaly  to  be." 
Then,  suddenly  changing  his  tone  to  serious,  which  was 
in  general  ironical,  he  added,  "  Young  man.  when  the 
tilence  is  diffused  through  the  air  of  a  city,  it  is  in 
vain  men  would  avoid  the  disease,  by  seeking  solitude, 

Running  the  company  of  their  fellow-sufferers*" 
.  ':  In  what  then,  consists  their  safety  ?"  said  Peveril, 
willing  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  drill  of  his  compa- 
nion's purpose. 


29;}  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK, 

r"  In  following  the  counsels  of  wise  physicians  ;"  such 
was  the  stranger's  answer. 

"  And  as  such,"  said  Peveril,  "you  offer  me  your  ad- 
vice  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  young  man,"  said  the  stranger,  haughti- 
ly, "  I  see  no  reason  I  should  do  so. — I  am  not,"  he  ad- 
ded, in  his  former  tone,  "your  physician  feed — I  offer  no 
advice — I  only  say  it  would  he  wise  that  you  sought  it." 

"And  from  whom,  or  where,  can  I  obtain  it?"  said 
Peveril.  "  I  wander  in  this  country,  like  one  in  a 
dream ;  so  much  a  few  months  have  changed  it.  Men 
who  formerly  occupied  themselves  with  their  own  af- 
fairs, are  now  swallowed  up  in  matters  of  state  policy : 
and  those  tremble  under  the  apprehension  of  some 
strange  and  sudden  convulsion  of  empire,  who  were  for- 
merly only  occupied  by  the  fear  of  going  to  bed  supper- 
less.  And  to  sum  the  matter,  I  meet  a  stranger,  appa- 
rently well  acquainted  with  my  name  and  concerns,  who 
first  attaches  himself  to  me,  whether  I  will  or  no;  and 
then  refuses  me  explanation  of  his  business,  while  he  me~ 
naces  me  with  the  strangest  accusations." 

"  Had  1  meant  such  infamy,"  said  the  stranger,  "  be- 
lieve me,  I  had  not  given  you  the  thread  of  my  intrigue. 
But  be  wise,  and  come  on  with  me.  There  is,  hard  by. 
a  small  inn,  where,  if  you  can  take  a  stranger's  warrant 
for  it,  we  shall  sleep  in  perfect  security." 

"  Yet  yon  yourself,"  said  Peveril,  "  but  now  were 
anxious  to  avoid  observation ;  and  in  that  case,  how  can 
you  protect  me  ?" 

"  Psha !  1  did  but  silence  that  tattling  landlady,  in  the 
way  in  which  such  people  are  most  readily  hushed  ;  and 
for  Topham,  and  his  brace  of  night  owls,  they  must  hawk 
at  other  and  lesser  game  than  I  should  prove." 

Peveril  could  not  help  admiring  the  easy  and  confident 
indifference  with  which  the  stranger  seemed  to  assume  a 
superiority  to  all  the  circumstances  of  danger  around 
him  ;  and  after  hastily  considering  the  matter  with  him- 
self, came  to  the  resolution  to  keep  company  with  him 
for  this  night  at  least ;  and  to  learn,  if  possible,  who  he 
really  was,  and  to  what  party  in  the  estate  he  was  attach- 
ed*     The.  boldness  and  freedom  of  his  talk  seemed  al 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  29.3 

most  inconsistent  with  his  following  the  perilous,  though 
at  that  time  gainful  trade  of  an  informer.  No  doubt; 
s.uch  persons  assumed  every  appearance  which  could  in- 
sinuate them  into  the  confidence  of  their  destined  vic- 
fime ;  but  Julian  thought  he  discovered  in  this  man's 
manner,  a  wiid  and  reckless  frankness,  which  he  could 
not  but  connect  with  the  idea  of  sincerity  in  the  present 
ease.  He  therefore  answered,  after  a  moment's  recol- 
lection, "I  embrace  your  proposal,  sir;  although,  by  do- 
ing so,  I  am  reposing  a  sudden,  and  perhaps  an  unwary, 
confidence. " 

u  And  what  am  I,  then,  reposing  in  you  ?"  said  the 
stranger.     "  Is  not  our  confidence  mutual  ?" 

"No;  much  the  contrary.  I  know  nothing  of  you 
whatever — you  have  named  me  ;  and.  knowing  me  to  be 
Julian  Peveril,  know  you  may  travel  with  meln  perfect 
tfecuritf." 

"  The  devil  I  do  !"  answered  his  companion.  "  I  tra- 
vel in  the  same  security  as  with  a  lighted  petard,  which  I 
may  expect  to  explode  every  moment.  Are  you  not  the 
son  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  with  whose  name  Prelacy 
and  Popery  are  so  closely  allied,  that  no  old  woman  of 
either  sex  in  Derbyshire,  concludes  her  prayer  without 
a  petition  to  be  freed  from  all  three  ?  And  do  you  not 
<  ome  from  the  Popish  Countess  of  Derby,  bringing,  for 
aught  1  know,  a  whole  army  of  Manxmen  in  your  pocket, 
with  full  complement  of  arms,  ammunition,  baggage,  and 
a  train  of  field  artillery?" 

-•It  is  not  very  likely  I  should  be  so  poorly  mounted," 
said  Julian  laughing,  "if  I  had  such  a  weight  to  carry. 
But  lead  on,  sir.  1  see  I  must  wait  for  your  confidence, 
till  you  think  proper  to  confer  it ;  for  you  are  already  so 
well  acquainted  with  my  affairs,  that  I  have  nothing  to 
offer  you  in  exchange  for  it." 

"Allons,  then,"  said  his  companion  ;  '-give  your  horse 
(he  spur,  and  raise  the  curb  rein,  lest  he  measure  the 
ground  with  his  nose,  instead  of  his  paces.  We  are  not 
now  more  than  a  furlong  or  two  from  the  place  of  enter- 
tainment." 

>  They  mended  their  pace  accordingly,  and  soon  arrived 
at  the  small  solitary  inn  which  the  traveller  had  mentioned. 


294  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

When  its  light  began  to  twinkle  before  them,  the  stran 
ger,  as  if  recollecting  something  he  had  forgotten,  "B> 
the  way,  you  must  have  a  name  to  pass  by ;  for  it  may 
be  ill  travelling  under  your  own,  as  the  fellow  who  keep.- 
this  house  is  an  old  Cromwellian.  What  will  you  call 
yourself? — My  name  is — for  the  present — Ganlesse." 

"  There  is  no  occasion  to  assume  a  name  at  all."  an- 
swered Julian,  "  I  do  not  incline  to  use  a  borrowed  one, 
especially  as  I  may  meet  with  some  one  who  knows  mj 
own." 

"  I  will  call  you  Julian,  then,"  said  Master  Ganlesse  ; 
Cifor  Peveril  will  smell,  in  the  nostrils  of  mine  host,  ol 
idolatry,  conspiracy,  Smithfield  faggots,  fish  upon  Fridays 
the  murder  of  Sir  Edmundbury  Godfrey,  and  the  fire  ot 
purgatory." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  they  alighted  under  the  great  broad- 
branched  oak  tree,  which  served  to  canopy  the  ale-beneij. 
which,  at  an  earlier  hour,  had  groaned  under  the  weigh* 
of  a  frequent  conclave  of  rustic  politicians.  Ganlesse, 
as  he  dismounted,  whistled  in  a  particularly  shrill  note, 
and  was  answered  from  within  the  house. 


PEVERIL   OF    THE    PEAK.  295' 


CHAPTER  XXL 

He  was  a  fellow  in  a  peasant's  garb ; 

Yet  one  could  censure  you  a  woodcock's  carving; 

Like  any  courtier  at  the  ordinary. 

The.  Ordinary. 

The  person  who  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  little  inn 
to  receive  Ganlesse,  as  we  mentioned  in  our  last  chapter, 
sang,  as  he  came  forward,  this  scrap  of  an  old  ballad, — 

"  Good  even  to  you,  Diccon ; 

And  how  have  you  sped  ? 
Bring-  you  the  bonny  bride 

To  banquet  and  bed  '" 

To  which  Ganlesse  answered,  in  the  same  tone  and 

■ — 

u  Content  thee,  kind  Robin ; 

He  need  little  care, 
Who  brings  home  a  fat  buck 

Instead  of  a  hare." 

"You  have  missed  your  blow,  then."  said  the  other, 
in  reply. 

•I  tell  you  I  have  not,"  answered  Ganlesse;  "but 
you  will  think  of  nought  but  your  own  thriving  occupa- 
tion— May  the  plague  that  belongs  to  it  stick  to  it ! 
though  it  hath  been  the  making  of  thee." 

"  A  man  must  live,  Diccon  Ganlesse,"  said  the  other., 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Ganlesse,  "  bid  my  friend  welcome, 
tor  my  sake.     Hast  thou  got  any  supper  ?" 

''Reeking  like  a  sacrifice — Chaubert  has  done  his 
best.  That  fellow  is  a  treasure !  give  him  a  farthing 
candle,  and  he  will  cook  a  good  supper  with  it. — Come 
in.  sir.  My  friend's  friend  is  welcome,  as  we  say  in  my 
country." 

u  We  must  have  our  horses  looked  to  first,"  said  Pe^ 
reriJ,  who  began  to  be  considerably  uncertain  about  the 
character  of  his  companions — "  that  done.  I  am  for  you." 

Ganlesse  gave  a  second  whistle  ;  a  groom  appeared, 
who  took  charge  of  both  their  horses,  and  they  them- 
^Ives  entered  the  inn. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

The  ordinary  room  of  a  poor  inn  seemed  to  have  un- 
dergone some  alterations,  to  render  it  lit  for  company  oi 
a  higher  description.  There  were  a  beaufet,  a  couch, 
and  one  or  two  other  pieces  of  furniture,  of  a  stile  in- 
consistent with  the  appearance  of  the  place.  The  ta- 
ble-cloth, which  was  ready  laid,  was  of  the  finest  da- 
mask ;  and  the  spoons,  forks,  &c.  were  of  silver.  Pe- 
veril  looked  at  this  apparatus  with  some  surprise,  and 
again  turning  his  eyes  attentively  upon  his  travelling  com- 
panion Ganlesse,  he  could  not  help  discovering,  (by  the 
aid  of  imagination,  perhaps,)  that  though  insignificant  in 
person,  plain  in  features,  and  dressed  like  one  in  indigence, 
there  lurked  still  about  his  person  and  manners,  that  in- 
definable ease  of  manner  which  belongs  only  to  men  oi 
birth  and  quality,  or  to  those  who  are  in  the  constant  ha- 
bit of  frequenting  the  best  company.  His  companion, 
whom  he  called  Will  Smith,  although  tall,  and  rather 
good-looking,  besides  being  much  better  dressed,  had  not. 
nevertheless,  exactly  the  same  ease  of  demeanour ;  and 
was  obliged  to  make  up  for  tlie  want,  by  an  additional 
proportion  of  assurance.  Who  these  two  persons  could 
be,  Peveril  could  not  attempt  even  to  form  a  guess. 
There  was  nothing  for  it,  but  to  watch  their  manner  and 
conversation. 

After  speaking  a  moment  in  whispers,  Smith  said  to 
his  companion,  "  We  must  go  look  after  our  nags  for  ten 
minutes,  and  allow  Chaubert  to  do  his  office." 

"  Will  he  not  appear  and  minister  before  us,  then  ?" 
said  Ganlesse. 

"  What,  he  ? — he  shift  a  trencher — he  hand  a  cup  ?— 
no,  you  forget  whom  you  speak  of.  Such  an  order  were 
caough  to  make  him  fall  on  his  own  sword — he  is  al- 
ready on  the  borders  of  despair,  because  no  craw-fish  are 
to  be  had." 

<k  Alack-a-d?y  !"  replied  Ganlesse.  "  Heaven  forbid 
I  should  add  to  such  a  calamity !  To  stable,  then,  and 
see  we  how  our  steeds  eat  their  provender,  while  ours  is 
getting  ready." 

They  adjourned   to   the   stable   accordingly,   which, 
though  a  poor  one,  had  been  hastily  supplied  with  what 
ever  was  necessary  for  the  accommodation  of  four  ex- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  297 

cellent  horses  ;  one  of  which,  that  from  which  Ganlesse 
was  just  dismounted,  the  groom  we  have  mentioned,  wa> 
cleaning  and  dressing  by  the  light  of  a  huge  wax  candle. 

"  1  am  still  so  far  Catholic,"  said  Ganlesse,  laughing, 
as  he  saw  that  Peveril  noticed  this  piece  of  extravagance. 
;t  My  horse  is  my  saint,  and  I  dedicate  a  candle  to  him." 

"  Without  asking  so  great  a  favour  for  mine,  which  I 
see  standing  behind  yonder  old  hencoop,"  replied  Peve- 
ril,  "  I  will  at  least  relieve  him  of  his  saddle  and  bridle." 

"  Leave  him  to  the  lad  of  the  inn,"  said  Smith  :  "  he 
is  not  worthy  any  other  person's  handling :  and  I  pro- 
mise you,  if  you  slip  a  single  buckle,  you  will  so  flavor  oJ 
that  stable  duty,  that  you  might  as  well  eat  roast-beef  a- 
ragouts,  for  any  relish  you  will  have  of  them." 

"  I  love  roast-beef  as  well  as  ragouts,  at  any  time," 
said  Pevenl.  adjusting  himself  to  a  task  which  every 
young  man  should  know  how  to  perform  when  need  is  : 
"  and  my  horse,  though  it  be  but  a  sorry  jade,  will  champ 
better  on  hay  and  corn,  than  on  an  iron  bit." 

While  he  was  unsaddling  his  horse,  and  shaking  down 
some  litter  for  the  poor  wearied  animal,  he  heard  Smith 
observe  to  Ganlesse, — "  By  my  faith,  Dick,  thou  hast 
fallen  into  poor  Slender's  blunder ;  missed  Anne  Page, 
and  brought  us  a  great  lubberly  post-master's  boy." 

"  Hush,  he  will  hear  thee,"  answered  Ganlesse ; 
"  there  are  reasons  for  all  things — it  is  well  as  it  is.  But, 
prithee,  tell  thy  fellow  to  help  the  youngster." 

"  What,"  replied  Smith,  "  d'ye  think  I  am  mad  ?— 
Ask  Tom  Beacon — Tom  of  Newmarket — Tom  of  ten 
thousand,  to  touch  such  a  four-legged  brute  as  that  ?— - 
Why,  he  would  turn  me  away  on  the  spot— discard  me, 
i'faith.  It  was  all  he  would  do  to  take  in  hand  your 
own,  my  good  friend  ;  and  if  you  consider  him  not  the 
better,  you  are  like  to  stand  groom  to  him  yourself  to- 
morrow." 

"  Well,  Will,"  answered  Ganlesse,  "  I  will  say  thar 
for  thee,  thou  hast  a  set  of  the  most  useless,  scoundrelly, 
insolent  vermin  about  thee,  that  ever  eat  up  a  poor  gen- 
tlemen's revenues." 

',;  Useless  ?  I  deny  it  ?"  replied  Smith.  "  Every  one 
of  my  fellows  does  something  or  other,  so  exquisitely? 


298  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

that  it  were  sin  to  make  him  do  any  tiling  else — it  i.- 
jour  jacks-of-all- trades  who  are  masters  of  none. — But 
hark  to  Chaubert's  signal !  The  coxcomb  is  tvvangling  ii 
on  the  lute,  to  the  tune  of  Eveillez  vous,  belle  endonnie. 
Come,  Master  What  d'ye  call,  (addressing  Peveril,) — get 
ye  some  water,  and  wash  this  filthy  witness  from  your 
hand,  as  Betterton  says  in  the  play  :  for  Chaubert's 
cookery  is  like  Friar  Bacon's  Head — time  is — time  was 
• — time  will  soon  be  no  more." 

So  saying,  and  scarce  allowing  Julian  time  to  dip  his 
hands  in  a  bucket,  and  dry  them  on  a  horse  cloth,  he 
hurried  him  from  the  stable  back  to  the  supper  cham- 
ber. 

Here  all  was  prepared  for  their  meal,  with  an  epicu- 
rean delicacy,  which  rather  belonged  to  the  saloon  of  a 
palace,  than  the  cabin  in  which  it  was  displayed.  Four 
dishes  of  silver,  with  covers  of  the  same  metal,  smoked 
on  the  table  :  and  three  seats  were  placed  for  the  com- 
pany. Beside  the  lower  end  of  the  board,  was  a  small 
side-table,  to  answer  the  purpose  of  what  is  now  called  a 
dumb  waiter ;  on  which  several  flasks  reared  their  tall, 
stately,  and  swan-like  crests,  above  glasses  and  rummers* 
Clean  covers  were  also  placed  within  reach  ;  and  a  small 
travelling-case  of  morocco,  hooped  with  silver,  displayed 
a  number  of  bottles,  containing  the  most  approved 
sauces  that  culinary  ingenuity  had  then  invented. 

Smith,  who  occupied  the  lower  seat,  and  seemed  to 
act  as  president  of  the  feast,  motioned  the  two  travellers 
(o  take  their  places  and  begin.  "  1  would  not  stay  a 
grace-time,"  he  said,  "  to  save  a  whole  nation  from  per- 
dition. We  could  bring  no  chauffettes  with  any  conve- 
nience ;  and  even  Chaubert  is  nothing,  unless  his  dishe? 
are  tasted  in  the  very  moment  of  projection.  Come, 
uncover,  and  let  us  see  what  he  has  done  for  us.— Hum  ! 
— ha  ! — ay — squab  pigeons — wild-fowl — young  chickens 
venison  cutlets — and  a  space  in  the  centre,  wet,  alas,  by 
a  gentle  tear  from  Chaubert's  eye,  where  should  have 
been  the  soiipe  (Pccrivisses  !  The  zeal  of  that  poor  fel- 
low is  but  ill  repaid  by  his  paltry  ten  louis  per  month." 

"  A  mere  trifle,"  said  Ganlesse ;  "  but  like  yourself. 
Will,  he  serves  a  generous  master." 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  299 

The  repast  now  commenced ;  and  Julian,  though  he 
had  seen  his  young  friend  the  Earl  of  Derby,  and  other 
gallants,  affect  a  considerable  degree  of  interest  and  skill 
in  the  science  of  the  kitchen,  and  was  not  himself  either 
an  enemy  or  a  stranger  to  the  pleasures  of  a  good  table, 
found,  that,  on  the  present  occasion,  he  was  a  mere  no- 
vice. Both  his  companions,  but  Smith  in  especial, 
seemed  to  consider  that  they  were  now  engaged  in  the 
only  true  and  real  business  of  life ;  and  weighed  all  its 
minufa  with  a  proportional  degree  of  accuracy.  To 
carve  the  morsel  in  the  most  delicate  manner — and  to 
apportion  the  proper  seasoning  with  the  accuracy  of  a 
chemist — to  be  aware,  exactly,  of  the  order  in  which  one 
dish  should  succeed  another,  and  to  do  plentiful  justice 
to  all — was  a  minuteness  of  science  to  which  Julian  had 
hitherto  been  a  stranger. 

At  length  Ganlesse  paused,  and  declared  the  supper 
exquisite.  "  But,  my  friend  Smith,"  he  added,  "  are 
your  wines  curious  ?  When  you  brought  all  that  trash  of 
plates  and  trumpery  into  Derbyshire,  1  hope  you  did  not 
leave  us  at  the  mercy  of  the  strong  ale  of  the  shire,  as 
thick  and  muddy  as  the  squires  who  drink  it?" 

"  Did  I  not  know  that  you  were  to  meet  me,  Dick 
Ganlesse  ?"  answered  their  host.  "  And  can  you  sus- 
pect me  of  such  an  omission  ?  It  is  true,  you  must  make 
Champagne  and  Claret  serve,  for  my  Burgundy  would 
not  bear  travelling.  But  if  you  have  a  fancy  for  sherry, 
or  Vin  de  Cahors,  I  have  a  notion  Chaubert  and  Tom 
Beacon  have  brought  some  for  their  own  drinking." 

"  Perhaps  the  gentlemen  would  not  care  to  impart," 
said  Ganlesse. 

"  Oh,  fie  ! — any  thing  in  the  way  of  civility,"  replied 
Smith.  u  They  are,  in  truth,  the  best  natured  lads  alive, 
when  treated  respectfully  ;  so  that  if  you  would  prefer — " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Ganlesse — "  a  glass  of  Cham- 
pagne will  serve  in  a  scarcity  of  better." 

••  The  cork*  shall  start  obsequious  to  my  thumb, ': 

said  Smith  ;  and  as  he  spoke,  he  untwisted  the  wire,  and 
the  cork  struck  the  roof  of  the  cabin.  Each  guest  took  a 
large  rummer  glass  of  the  sparkling  beverage,  which  IV- 


.300  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

veril  had  judgment  and  experience  enough  to  pronounce 
exquisite. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  sir,'5  said  Smith ;  "  it  is  the 
first  word  of  sense  you  have  spoken  this  evening." 

"  Wisdom,  sir,"  replied  Peveril,  "  is  like  the  best  ware 
in  the  pedlars  pack,  which  he  never  produces  till  he 
knows  his  customer." 

"Sharp  as  mustard."  returned  the  bon  vivant ;  "but 
be  wise,  most  noble  pedlar,  and  take  another  rummer  of 
this  same  flask,  which  you  see  I  have  held  in  an  oblique 
position  for  your  service — not  permitting  it  to  retrograde 
to  the  perpendicular.  Nay,  take  it  off  before  the  bubble 
bursts  on  the  rim,  and  the  zest  is  gone." 

"  You  do  me  honour,  sir,"  said  Peveril,  taking  the  se- 
cond glass.  "  I  wish  you  a  better  office  than  that  of  my 
cup-bearer." 

"  You  cannot  wish  Will  Smith  one  more  congenial  to 
his  nature,"  said  Ganlesse.  "  Others  have  a  selfish  de- 
light in  the  objects  of  sense.  Will  thrives,  and  is  hap- 
py, by  imparting  them  to  others." 

"  Better  help  men  to  pleasures  than  to  pains,  Master 
Ganlesse,"  answered  Smith,  somewhat  angrily. 

"Nay,  wrath  thee  not,  Will,"  said  Ganlesse;  "and 
speak  no  words  in  haste,  lest  you  may  have  cause  to  re- 
pent at  leisure.  Do  1  blame  thy  social  concern  for  the 
pleasures  of  others  ?  Why,  man,  thou  doest  therein  most 
philosophically  multiply  thine  own.  A  man  has  but  one 
throat,  and  can  but  eat,  with  his  best  efforts,  some  five  or 
six  times  a-day;  but  thou  dinest  with  every  friend  that 
cuts  up  a  capon,  and  art  quaffing  wine  in  other  men  *s 
gullets,  from  morning  to  night — et  sic  de  cceteris." 

"  Friend  Ganlesse,"  returned  Smith,  "  I  prithee  be- 
ware— thou  knowest  I  can  cut  gullets  as  well  as  tickle 
them." 

"  Ay,  Will,"  answered  Ganlesse,  carelessly ;  "  I  think 
I  have  seen  thee  wave  thy  whinyard  at  the  throat  of  a 
Hogan-Mogan — a  Netherlandish  weasand,  which  ex- 
panded only  on  thy  natural  and  mortal  objects  of  aver- 
sion— Dutch  cheese,  rye-bread,  pickled-herring,  onions, 
and  Geneva." 

"  For  pity's  sake,  forbear  the  description !"  said  Smith ; 


?EVERIL    OF    THE    TEAK,  301 

'•thy  words  overpower  the  perfumes,  and  flavour  the 
apartment  like  a  dish  of  salmagundi!" 

u  But  for  ?n  epiglottis  like  mine,"  continued  Ganlesse, 
"down  which  the  most  delicate  morsels  are  washed  by 
<uch  claret  as  thou  art  now  pouring  out,  thou  couldst  not. 
in  thy  bitterest  mood,  wish  a  worse  fate  than  to  be  neck- 
laced  somewhat  tight  by  a  pair  of  white  arms  ?" 

"  By  a  tenpenny  cord,"  answered  Smith ;  "  but  not 
till  you  were  dead  ;  that  thereafter  you  be  presently  dis- 
embowelled, you  being  yet  alive  ;  that  your  head  be  then 
severed  from  your  body,  and  your  body  divided  into 
quarters,  to  be  disposed  of  at  his  Majesty's  pleasure. — 
Mow  like  you  that,  Master  Richard  Ganlesse  ?" 

u  E'en  as  you  like  the  thoughts  of  dining  on  bran- 
bread  and  milk-porridge — an  extremity  which  you  trust 
never  to  be  reduced  to.  But  all  this  shall  not  prevent 
me  from  pledging  you  in  a  cup  of  sound  claret." 

As  the  claret  circulated,  the  glee  of  the  company  in- 
creased ;  and  Smith,  placing  the  dishes  which  had  been 
made  use  of  upon  the  side-table,  stamped  with  his  foot 
on  the  floor,  and  the  table,  sinking  down  a  trap,  again 
arose,  loaded  with  olives,  sliced  neat's  tongue,  caviare, 
and  other  provocatives  for  the  circulation  of  the  bottle. 

"Why,  Will,"  said  Ganlesse,  "thou  art  a  more  com- 
plete mechanist  than  I  suspected  ;  thou  hast  brought  thy 
scene-shifting  inventions  to  Derbyshire  in  marvellously 
short  time." 

"  A  rope  and  pullies  can  be  easily  come  by,"  answered 
Will ;  "  and  with  a  saw  and  a  plane,  I  can  manage  that 
business  in  half  a  day.  I  love  that  knack  of  clean  and 
secret  conveyance — thou  knowest  it  was  the  foundation 
of  my  fortunes." 

"It  may  be  the  wreck  of  them  too,  Will,"  replied  his 
friend. 

•■True.  Diccon,"  answered  Will ;  "but  rhinitis  dum 
vivamus,  that  is  my  motto  ;  and  therewith  I  present  you 
a  brimmer  to  the  health  of  the  fair  lady  you  wot  of." 

"  Let  it  come,  Will,"  replied  his  friend,  and  the  flask 
circulated  briskly  from  hand  to  hand. 

Julian  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  seem  a  check  on>^ 

vol.  i.  26 


302  FEVEItIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

their  festivity,  as  he  hoped  in  its  progress  something 
might  occur  to  enable  him  to  judge  of  the  character  and 
purposes  of  his  companions.  But  he  watched  them  in 
vain.  Their  conversation  was  animated  and  lively,  and 
often  bore  reference  to  the  literature  of  the  period,  in 
which  the  elder  seemed  particularly  well  skilled.  The) 
also  talked  freely  of  the  court,  and  of  that  numerous  class 
of  gallants  who  were  then  described  as  "men  of  wit  and 
pleasure  about  town;"  and  to  whom  it  seemed  probable 
they  themselves  appertained. 

At  length  the  universal  topic  of  the  Popish  Plot  wa> 
started ;  upon  which  Ganlesse  and  Smith  seemed  to  en- 
tertain the  most  opposite  opinions.  Ganiesse,  if  he  did 
not  maintain  the  authority  of  Oates  in  its  utmost  extent, 
contended  that  at  least  it  was  confirmed  in  a  great  mea- 
sure by  the  murder  of  Sir  Edmundsbury  Godfrey,  and  the 
letters  written  by  Coleman  to  the  confessor  of  the  French 
King. 

With  much  more  noise,  and  less  power  of  reasoning. 
Will  Smith  hesitated  not  to  ridicule  and  run  down  the 
whole  discovery,  as  one  of  the  wildest  and  most  cause- 
less alarms  which  had  ever  been  sounded  in  the  ears  of  a 
credulous  public.  "  I  shall  never  forget,"  he  said,  "  Sir 
Godfrey's  most  original  funeral.  Two  bouncing  parsons, 
well  armed  with  sword  and  pistol,  mounted  the  pulpit,  to 
secure  alhird  fellow  who  preached  from  being  murdered 
in  the  face  of  the  congregation.  Three  parsons  in  one 
pulpit — three  suns  in  one  hemisphere — no  wonder  men 
stood  aghast  at  such  a  prodigy." 

"What  then,  Will,"  answered  his  companion,  "you 
are  one  of  those  who  think  the  good  knight  murdered 
himself,  in  order  to  give  credit  to  the  plot?" 

"  By  my  faith  not  I,"  said  the  other;  "but  some  true 
blue  Protestant  might  do  the  job  for  him,  in  order  to  give 
the  thing  a  better  colour, — 1  will  be  judged  by  our  silent 
friend,  whether  that  be  not  the  most  feasible  solution  of 
the  whole." 

"  I  pray  you,  pardon  me,  gentlemen,"  said  Julian  ; 
"  I  am  but  just  landed  in  England,  and  am  a  stranger  to 
the  particular  circumstances  which  have  thrown  the  na- 


PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK,  303 

Cion  into  such  ferment.  It  would  be  the  highest  degree 
of  assurance  in  me  to  give  my  opinion  betwixt  gentlemen 
who  argue  the  matter  so  ably ;  besides,  to  say  truth,  I 
confess  weariness — your  wine  is  more  potent  than  I  ex- 
pected, or  I  have  drank  more  of  it  than  I  meant  to  do." 

"Nay,  if  an  hour's  nap  will  refresh  you,"  said  the 
elder  of  the  strangers.  "  make  no  ceremony  with  us. 
Your  bed — all  we  can  offer  as  such — is  that  old-fashion- 
ed Dutch-built  sofa,  as  the  last  new  phrase  calls  it.  Wc 
shall  be  early  stirrers  to-morrow  morning." 

"And  that  we  may  be  so,"  said  Smith,  "I  propose 
that  we  do  sit  up  all  this  night — I  hate  lying  rough,  and 
detest  a  paliet-bed.  So  have  at  another  flask,  and  the 
newest  lampoon  to  help  it  out — 

Now  a  plague  of  thoir  votes 
Upon  papists  and  plots, 
Aud  be  d — d  Doctor  Oates. 

To  I  de  vol, 

"  Nay,  but  our  Puritannic  host,"  said  Ganlesse. 

u  I  have  him  in  my  pocket,  man — his  eyes,  ears,  nose, 
and  tongue,"  answered  his  boon  companion,  "  are  all  in 
my  possession." 

"  In  that  case,  when  you  give  him  back  his  eyes  and 
nose,  I  pray  you  keep  his  ears  and  tongue,"  answered 
Ganlesse.  "Seeing  and  smelling  are  organs  sufficient 
for  such  a  knave — to  speak  and  hear,  are  things  he 
-hould  have  no  manner  of  pretensions  to." 

"  I  grant  you  it  were  well  done,"  answered  Smith ; 
"but  it  were  a  robbing  of  the  hangman  and  the  pillory  : 
and  I  am  an  honest  fellow,  who  would  give  Dun  and  the 
devil  his  due.     So 

All  joy  to  great  Caesar, 
Long  life,  love,  and  pleasure  ; 
May  the  King  live  for  ever, 
'Tis  no  matter  for  us,  boys." 

While  this  Bacchanalian  scene  proceeded,  Julian  had 
wrapt  himself  closely  in  his  cloak,  and  stretched  himself 
on  the  couch  which  they  had  showed  to  him.  He  looked 
towards  the  table  he  had  left — the  tapers  seemed  to  be- 


304  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

come  hazy  and  dim  as  he  gazed — he  heard  the  sound  of 
voices,  but  they  ceased  to  convey  any  impression  to  his 
understanding;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  he  was  faster 
asleep  than  he  had  ever  been  in  the  whole  course>of  his 
life, 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Gordon  then  his  bugle  blew. 

And  said,  awa,  awa  : 
The  House  of  Rhodis  i§  all  on  flame, 

I  hauld  it  time  to  ga". 

Old  Ballad. 

When  Julian  awakened  the  next  morning,  all  was  still 
and  vacant  in  the  apartment.  The  rising  sun.  which 
-bone  through  the  half  closed  shutters,  showed  some  re- 
iiquesof  the  last  night's  banquet,  which  his  confused  and 
throbbing  head  assured  him  had  been  carried  into  a  de- 
bauch. 

Without  being  much  of  a  boon  companion,  Julian,  like 

other  young  men  of  the  time,  was  not  in  the  habit  of 

shunning   wine,  which  was  then  used  in  considerable 

quantities;  and  he  could  not  help  being  surprised,  that 

the  few  cups  he  had  drunk  over  night  had  produced  on 

his  frame  the  effects  of  excess.    He  rose  up.  adjusted  his 

dies?,  and  sought  the  apartment  for  water  to  perform  his 

morning  ablutions,  but  without  success.    Wine  there  was 

on  the  table ;  and  beside  it  one  stool  stood,  and  another 

lay,  as  if  thrown  down  in  the  heedless  riot  of  the  evening. 

ely,  he  thought  to  himself,  the  wine  must  have  been 

v  powerful,  which  rendered  me  insensible  to  the  noise 

im\  companions  must  have  made  ere  they  finished  their 

►use. 

With  momentary  suspicion  he  examined  his  weapons, 

:»nd  the  packet  which  he  had  received  from  the  Countess, 

|  kepi  in  a  secret  pocket  of  his  upper-coat,  bound 

ise  about  his  person.    All  was  safe  ;  and  the  yery  ope- 

ion  reminded  him  of  the  duties  which  lay  before  him. 
!  [<•  left  the  apartment  where  they  had  supped,  and  went 
into  another,  wretched  enough,  where,  in  a  truckle-bed, 
I :  etched  two  bodies,  covered  with  a  rug,  the  heads 
belonging  to  which  were  amicably  deposited  upon  the 
same  truss  of  hay.  The  one  was  the  black  shock  head 
he  groom  :  the  other,  graced  with  a  long  thrumb  night- 
rap,  showed  a  grizzled  pate,  and  a  grave  caricatured 
countenance,  which  the  hook-nose  and  lantern  jaWs  pro- 
i  hiinel  to  belong  to  the  CJailic  minister  of  good  cheer. 
2G^ 


306  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK, 

whose  praises  he  had  heard  sung  forth  on  the  preceding 
evening.  These  worthies  seemed  to  have  slumbered  in 
the  arms  of  Bacchus  as  well  as  of  Morpheus,  for  there 
were  broken  flasks  on  the  floor ;  and  their  deep  snoring 
alone  showed  that  they  were  alive. 

Bent  upon  resuming  his  journey,  as  duty  and  expe- 
dience alike  dictated,  Julian  next  descended  the  trap- 
stair,  and  essayed  a  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  It 
was  fastened  within.  He  called — no  answer  was  re- 
turned. It  must  be,  he  thought,  the  apartment  of  the 
revellers,  now  probably  sleeping  as  soundly  as  their  de^ 
pendants  still  slumbered,  and  as  he  himself  had  done  a 
few  minutes  before.  Should  he  awaken  them  ? — To 
what  purpose  ?  They  were  men  with  whom  accidenl 
had  involved  him  against  his  own  will ;  and  situated  as 
he  was,  he  thought  it  wise  to  take  the  e:\rliest  opportu- 
nity of  breaking  off  from  society,  which  was  suspicious 
and  might  be  perilous.  Ruminating  thus,  he  essayed 
another  door,  which  admitted  him  to  a  bedroom,  where 
lay  another  harmonious  slumberer.  The  mean  utensils, 
pewter  measures,  empty  cans  and  casks,  with  which  this 
room  was  lumbered,  proclaimed  it  that  of  the  host,  who 
slept,  surrounded  by  his  professional  implements  of  hos- 
pitality and  stock  in  trade. 

This  discovery  relieved  Peveril  from  some  delicate 
embarrassment  which  he  had  formerly  entertained.  He 
put  upon  the  table  a  piece  of  money,  sufficient,  as  he 
judged,  to  pay  his  share  of  the  preceding  night's  reckon- 
ing ;  not  caring  to  be  indebted  for  his  entertainment  to 
the  strangers,  whom  he  was  leaving  without  the  formality 
of  an  adieu. 

His  conscience  cleared  of  this  gentleman-like  scruple. 
Peveril  proceeded  with  a  light  heart,  though  somewhat 
a  dizzy  head,  to  the  stable,  which  he  easily  recognised 
among  a  few  other  paltry  out-houses.  His  horse,  re- 
freshed with  rest,  and  perhaps  not  unmindful  of  his  ser- 
vices the  evening  before,  neighed  as  his  master  entered 
the  stable ;  and  Peveril  accepted  the  sound  as  an  omen 
of  a  prosperous  journey.  He  paid  the  augury  with  a 
sieve  full  of  corn ;  and,  while  his  palfrey  profited  by  his 
attention,  walked  into  the  fresh  air  to  cool  his  heated 
blood,  and  consider  what  coarse  he  should  pursue  in  or 


FEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  307 

der  to  reach  the  Castle  of  Martindale  before  sunset.  Hi? 
acquaintance  with  the  country  in  general,  gave  him  confi- 
dence that  he  could  not  have  greatly  deviated  from  the 
nearest  road ;  and  with  his  horse  in  good  condition,  he 
conceived  he  might  easily  reach  Martindale  before  night- 
fall. 

Having  adjusted  his  route  in  his  mind,  he  returned  into 
the  stable  to  prepare  his  steed  for  the  journey,  and  soon 
led  him  into  the  ruinous  court-yard  of  the  inn,  bridled, 
saddled,  and  ready  to  be  mounted.  But  as  Peveril'? 
hand  was  upon  the  mane,  and  his  left  foot  in  the  stirrup, 
a  hand  touched  his  cloak,  and  the  voice  of  Ganlesse  said. 
••  What,  Master  Peveril.  is  this  your  foreign  breeding  ?  or 
have  you  learned  in  France  to  take  French  leave  of  your 
friends." 

Julian  started  like  a  guilty  thiug.  although  a  moment's 
reflection  assured  him  that  he  was  neither  wrong  nor  in 
danger.  "  I  cared  not  to  disturb  you,"  he  said,  "  al- 
though I  did  come  as  far  as  the  door  of  your  chamber. 
I  supposed  your  friend  and  you  might  require,  after  our 
last  night's  revel,  rather  sleep  than  ceremony.  I  \e{t  my 
owii  bed.  though  a  rough  one,  with  more  reluctance  than 
usual ;  and  as  my  occasions  oblige  me  to  be  an  early 
traveller,  I  thought  it  best  to  depart  without  leave-taking. 
I  have  left  a  token  for  mine  host,  on  the  table  of  his 
apartment." 

"  It  was  unnecessary,"  said  Ganlesse  ;  "  the  rascal  is 
already  overpaid. — But  are  you  not  rather  premature  in 
your  purpose  of  departing  ?  My  mind  tells  me  that 
Master  Julian  Peveril  had  better  proceed  with  me  to 
London,  than  turn  aside  for  any  purpose  whatever.  You 
may  see  already,  that  I  am  no  ordinary  person,  but  a 
master-spirit  of  ihe  time.  For  the  cuckoo  1  travel  with, 
and  whom  T  indulge  in  his  prodigal  foMies.  he  also  has 
his  uses.  But  you  are  of  a  different  cast;  and  I  not  only 
would  serve  you.  but  even  wish  you  to  be  my  own." 

Julian  gazed  on  this  singular  person  when  he  spoke. 
We  have  already  said  his  figure  was  mean  and  slight, 
with  very  ordinary  and  unmarked  features,  unless  we 
were  to  distinguish  the  lightenings  of  a  keen  grey  eye. 
winch  corresponded  in  its  careless  and  prideful  glance, 
with  the  haughty  superiority  which  the  stranger  assumed 


,308  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

in  his  conversation,  ft  was  not  till  after  a  momentary 
pause,  that  Julian  replied,  "Can  you  wonder,  sir,  that  in 
my  circnmstances — if  they  are  indeed  known  to  you — 1 
should  decline  unnecessary  confidence  on  the  affairs  of 
moment  which  have  called  me  hither,  or  refuse  the  com- 
pany of  a  stranger,  who  assigns  no  reason  for  desiring 
mine  ?" 

"  Be  it  as  you  list,  young  man,"  answered  Ganlesse  ; 
-  only  remember  hereafter,  you  had  a  fair  offer — it  is 
not  every  one  to  whom  I  would  have  made  it.  If  we 
should  meet  hereafter,  on  other,  and  on  worse  terms, 
impute  it  to  yourself,  and  not  to  me." 

"  1  understand  not  your  threat,"  answered  Peveril,  "  if 
a  threat  be  indeed  implied.  I  have  done  no  evil — I  feel 
no  apprehension — and  I  cannot,  in  common  sense,  con- 
ceive why  I  should  suffer  for  refusing  my  confidence  to  a 
stranger,  who  seems  to  require  that  I  should  submit  me 
blindfold  to  his  guidance." 

"  Farewell,  then,  Sir  Julian  of  the  Peak, — that  may 
soon  be,"  said  the  stranger,  removing  the  hand  which  he 
had  as  yet  left  carelessly  on  the  horse's  bridle. 

"  How  mean  you  by  that  phrase  ?"  said  Julian  ;  "  and 
why  apply  such  a  title  to  me  ?" 

The  stranger  smiled,  and  only  answered,  "Here  our 
conference  ends.  The  way  is  before  you.  You  will 
find  it  longer  and  rougher  thai*  that  by  which  I  would  have 
guided  you." 

So  saying,  Ganlesse  turned  his  back  and  walked  to- 
ward the  house.  On  the  threshold  he  turned  about 
oik  e  more,  and  seeing  that  Peveril  had  not  yet  moved 
horn  the  spot,  he  again  smiled  and  beckoned  to  him  ;  but 
Julian,  recalled  by  that  sign  to  recollection,  spurred  his 
horse,  and  set  forward  on  his  journey. 

If  \vas  not  long  ere  his  locai  acquaintance  with  the 
country  enabled  him  to  regain  the  road  to  Martindale, 
from  which  he  had  diverged  on  the  preceding  evening 
for  about  two  miles.  But  the  roads,  or  rather  the  paths. 
of  this  wild  country,  so  much  satirized  by  their  native 
poet,  Cotton,  were  so  complicated  in  some  places,  so 
difficult  to  be  traced  in  others,  and  so  unfit  for  hasty 
travelling  in  almost  a!!,  that,  in  spite  of  Julian's  utmost 
Exertions,  and  though  he  made  no  longer  delay  upon  the 


TEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  309 

journey  than  was  necessary  to  bait  his  horse  at  a  small 
hamiet  through  which  he  passed  at  noon,  it  was  night- 
fall ere  he  reached  an  eminence,  from  which  an  hour 
sooner,  the  battlements  of  Martindale-Castie  would  have 
been  visible ;  and  where,  when  they  were  hid  in  night, 
their  situation  was  indicated  by  a  light  constantly  main- 
tained in  a  lofty  tower,  called  the  Warder's  Turret ;  and 
which  domestic  beacon  had  acquired  through  all  the 
neighbourhood,  the  name  of  Peveril's  Pole-star. 

This  was  regularly  kindied  at  curfew  toll,  and  suppli- 
ed with  as  much  wood  and  charcoal  as  maintained  the 
light  till  sunrise ;  and  at  no  period  was  the  ceremonial 
omitted,  saving  during  the  space  intervening  between  the 
death  of  a  Lord  of  the  Castle  and  his  interment.  When 
this  last  event  had  taken  p  ace,  the  nightly  beacon  was 
rekindled  with  some  ceremony,  and  continued  till  fate 
called  the  successor  to  sleep  with  his  fathers.  It  is  not 
known  from  what  circumstances  the  practice  of  main- 
taining this  light  originally  sprung.  Tradition  spoke  of 
it  doubtfully.  Some  thought  it  was  the  signal  of  general 
hospitality,  which,  in  ancient  times,  guided  the  wander- 
ing knight,  or  the  weary  pilgrim,  to  rest  and  refreshment. 
Others  spoke  of  it  as  a  "  love-lighted  watch-fire,"  by 
which  the  provident  anxiety  of  a  former  lady  of  Martin- 
dale  guided  her  husband  homewards  through  the  terrors 
of  a  midnight  storm.  The  less  favourable  construction 
of  unfriendly  neighbours  of  the  dissenting  persuasion,  as- 
cribed the  origin  and  continuance  of  this  practice,  to  the 
assuming  pride  of  the  family  of  Peveril,  who  thereby 
chose  to  intimate  their  ancient  suzerainte  over  the  whole 
country,  in  the  manner  of  the  admiral,  who  carries  the 
lantern  in  the  poop,  for  the  guidance  of  the  fleet.  And 
in  the  former  times,  our  old  friend,  Master  Solsgrace, 
dealt  from  the  pulpit  many  a  hard  hit  against  Sir  Geof- 
frey, as  he  that  had  raised  his  horn,  and  set  up  his  can- 
dlestick on  high.  Certain  it  is,  that  all  the  Peveril?. 
from  father  to  son,  had  been  especially  attentive  to  the 
maintenance  of  this  custom,  as  something  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  dignity  of  their  family  ;  and  in  the  hands 
o(Sir  Geoffrey,  the  observance  was  not  like  to  be  omitted. 

Accordingly,  the  polar-star  of  Peveril  had  continued 
to  beam  more  or  less  brightly  during  all  the  vicissitudes 


310  PEVERIL  OP  THE  PEAK. 

of  the  Civil  War;  and  glimmered,  however  faintly, 
during  the  subsequent  period  of  Sir  Geoffrey's  depres- 
sion. But  he  was  often  heard  to  say,  aud  sometimes  to 
swear,  that  while  there  was  a  perch  of  woodland  left  to 
the  estate,  the  old  beacon-grate  shouid  not  lack  re- 
plenishing. All  this  his  son  Julian  well  knew :  and 
therefore  it  was  with  no  ordinary  feelings  of  surprise  and 
anxiety,  that,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  Castle,  he 
perceived  that  the  li^ht  was  not  visible.  He  halted — - 
rubbed  his  eyes — shifted  his  position — and  endeavoured, 
in  vain,  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  mistaken  the 
point  from  which  the  polar-star  of  his  house  was  visible, 
or  that  some  newly  intervening  obstacle,  the  growth  of  a 
plantation,  perhaps,  or  the  erection  of  some  building, 
intercepted  the  light  of  the  beacon.  But  a  moment's 
reflection  assured  him,  that  from  the  high  and  free  situa- 
tion which  Martindale-Castle  bore  in  reference  to  the 
surrounding  country,  this  could  not  have  taken  place, 
and  the  inference  necesarily  forced  itself  upon  his  mind, 
that  Sir  Geoffrey,  his  father,  was  either  diseased,  or  that 
the  family  must  have  been  disturbed  by  some  strange  ca- 
lamity, under  the  pressure  of  which,  their  wonted  custom, 
and  solemn  usage,  had  been  neglected. 

Under  the  influence  of  undefinable  apprehension, 
young  Peveril  now  struck  the  spurs  into  his  jaded  steed, 
and  forcing  him  down  the  broken  and  steep  path,  at  a 
pace  which  set  safety  at  defiance,  he  arrived  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Martindale-Moultrassie,  eagerly  desirous  to  as- 
certain the  cause  of  this  ominous  eclipse.  The  street, 
through  which  his  tired  horse  paced  slow  and  reluctantly, 
was  now  deserted  and  empty;  and  scarce  a  candle 
twinkled  from  a  casement,  excepting  from  the  latticed 
window  of  the  little  inn,  called  the  Peveril  Arms,  from 
which  a  broad  light  shone,  and  several  voices  were  heard 
in  rude  festivity. 

Before  the  door  of  this  inn,  the  jaded  palfrey,  guided 
by  the  instinct  or  experience  which  makes  a  hackney 
well  acquainted  with  the  outside  of  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment, made  so  sudden  and  determined  a  pause,  that  not- 
withstanding his  haste,  the  rider  thought  it  best  to  dis- 
mount, expecting  to  be  read.y  supplied  with  a  fresh 
horse  4>y  Roger  Raine,  the  landlord,  the  ancient  depend- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    FEAK.  311 

ant  of  his  family.  He  also  wished  to  relieve  his  anxiety, 
by  inquiring  concerning  the  state  of  things  at  the  Castle, 
when  he  was  surprised  to  hear,  bursting  from  the  tap- 
room of  the  loyal  old  host,  a  well  known  song  of  the 
Commonwealth  time,  which  some  puritanical  wag  had 
written  in  reprehension  of  the  Cavaliers,  and  their  disso- 
lute courses,  and  in  which  his  father  came  in  for  a  lash  of 
the  satirist. 

Ye  thought  in  the  world  there  was  no  power  to  tame  ye, 

So  you  tippled  and  drab'd  till  the  saints  overcame  ye, 

■'  Forsooth,"  and  "  .Ne'er  stir,"  sir,  have  vanquished,  "  G — d — n  me.' 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 
There  was  bluff  old  Sir  Geoffrey  loved  brandy  aud  mum  well, 
And  to  see  a  beer-glass  turned  over  the  thumb  well ; 
But  he  fled  like  the  wind,  before  Fairfax  and  Cromwell, 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Some  strange  revolution,  Julian  was  aware,  must  have 
taken  place,  both  in  the  village  and  in  the  Castle,  ere 
these  sounds  of  unseemly  insult  could  have  been  poured 
fourth  in  the  very  inn  which  was  decorated  with  the  ar- 
morial bearings  of  his  family,  and  not  knowing  how  far 
it  might  be  adviseable  to  intrude  on  these  uufriendly  re- 
vellers, without  the  power  of  repelling  or  chastising  their 
insolence,  he  led  his  horse  to  a  back  door,  which,  as  he 
recollected,  communicated  with  the  landlord's  apart- 
ment, determined  to  make  private  inquiry  at  him  con- 
cerning the  state  of  matters  at  the  Castle.  He  knocked 
repeatedly,  and  as  often  called  on  Roger  Raine  with  an 
earnest  but  stifled  voice.  At  length  a  female  voice  re- 
plied, by  the  usual  inquiry,  "  Who  is  there  ?" 

"It  is  I,  Dame  Raine — I,  Julian  Peveril — tell  your 
husband  to  come  to  me  presently." 

"  Alack,  and  a  well-a-day,  Master  Julian,  if  it  be  real- 
ly you — you  bre  to  know  my  poor  good  man  has  gone 
where  he  can  come  to  no  one  ;  but,  doubtless,  we  shall 
all  go  to  him,  as  Matthew  Chamberlain  says." 

"He  is  dead,  jthen  ?"  said  Julian.  "  1  am  extremely 
sorry " 

"  Dead  six  months  and  more.  Master  Julian,  and  let 
me  tell  you,  it  is  a  long  time  for  a  lone  woman,  as  Mat 
Chamberlain  says." 

"  Well,  do  you  or  your  chamberlain  undo  the  door.  1 
want  a  fresh  horse  ;  and  I  want  to  know  how  things  are 
at  the  Castle." 


31  2  PEVERIL    OP    THE    TEAK. 

"  The  Castle — lack.a-day  ! — Chamberlain — Matthew 
Chamberlain — I  say  Mat!" 

Mat  Chamberlain  apparently  was  at  no  great  distance, 
for  he  presently  answered  her  call ;  and  Peveril,  as  he 
stood  close  to  the  door,  could  hear  them  whispering  to 
each  other,  and  distinguish  in  a  great  measure  what  they 
said.  And  here  it  may  be  noticed,  that  Dame  Raine. 
accustomed  to  submit  to  the  authority  of  old  Roger,  who 
vindicated  as  well  the  husband's  domestic  prerogative, 
as  that  of  the  monarch  in  the  state,  had,  wrhen  left  a  buxom 
widow,  been  so  far  incommoded  by  the  exercise  of  her 
newly  acquired  independence,  that  she  had  recourse, 
upon  all  occasions,  to  the  advice  of  Mat  Chamberlain  : 
and  as  Mat  began  no  longer  to  go  slipshod,  and  in  a  red 
night-cap,  but  wore  Spanish  shoes,  and  a  high-crowned 
beaver,  (at  least  of  a  Sunday,)  and  moreover  was  called 
Master  Matthew  by  his  fellow-servants,  the  neighbours  in 
the  village  argued  a  speedy  change  of  the  name  on  the 
sign-post ;  nay,  perhaps,  of  the  very  sign  itself,  for  Mat- 
thew was  a  bit  of  a  Puritan,  and  no  friend  to  Peveril  of 
the  Peak. 

"  Now  counsel  me,  an'  you  be  a  man,  Mat  Chamber- 
laid,"  said  Widow  Raine  ;  "for  never  stir,  if  here  be  not 
Master  Julian's  own  self,  and  he  wants  a  horse,  and  what 
not,  and  all  as  if  things  were  as  they  wont  to  be." 

••  Why,  dame,  an  ye  will  walk  by  counsel,"  said  the 
Chamberlain,  "  e'en  shake  him  off — let  him  be  jogging 
while  his  boots  are  green.  .  This  is  no  world  for  folks  to 
scald  their  fingers  in  other  folks'  broth." 

"And  that  is  well  spoken,  truly;"  answered  Dame 
Raine  ;  "  But  then,  look  you,  Mat,  we  have  eaten  their 
bread,  and,  as  my  poor  good  man  used  to  say " 

"  Nay,  nay,  dame,  they  that  walk  by  the  counsel  of 
the  dead,  shall  have  none  of  the  living;  and  so  you  may 
do  as  you  list;  but  if  you  will  walk  by  mine,  drop  latch, 
and  draw  bolt,  and  bid  him  seek  quarters  farther — that  is 
my  counsel." 

"  I  desire  nothing  of  you  sirrah,"  said  Peveril,  "  save 
but  to  know  howr  Sir  Geoffrey  and  his  lady  do  ?" 

"  Lack-a-day! — lack-a-day!"  in  a  tone  of  sympathy, 
was  the  only  answer  he  received  from  the  landlady  ;  and 
the  conversation  betwixt  her  and  her  Chamberlain  was 
resumed,  but  in  a  tone  too  lowr  to  be  overheard. 


PEVERIL  0E  THE  PEAK.  31  J 

At  length  Mat  Chamberlain  spoke  aloud,  and  with  a 
lone  of  authority  :  "  We  undo  no  doors  at  this  time  of 
flight,  for  it  is  against  the  Justices'  orders,  and  might 
rust  us  our  license  ;  and  for  the  Castle,  the  road  up  to 
it  lies  before  you,  and  I  think  you  know  it  as  well  as 
we  do." 

"  And  I  know  you,"  said  Peveril,  remounting  his 
wearied  horse,  "  for  an  migrate ful  churl,  whom,  on  the 
first  opportunity,  I  will  cudgel  you  to  a  mummy." 

To  this  menace  Matthew*  made  no  reply,  and  Peve- 
ril presently  heard  him  leave  the  apartment,  after  a  few 
earnest  words  betwixt  him  and  his  mistress. 

Impatient  at  this  delay,  and  at  the  evil  omen  implied 
in  these  people's  conversation  and  deportment,  Peveril, 
after  some  vain  spurring  of  his  horse,  which  positively 
refused  to  move  a  step  farther,  dismounted  once  more 
and  was  about  to  pursue  his  journey  on  foot,  notwith- 
standing the  extreme  disadvantage  under  which  the 
high  riding  boots  of  the  period  laid  those  who  attempted 
to  walk  with  such  encumbrances,  when  he  was  stopped 
by  a  gentle  call  from  the  window. 

Her  counsellor  was  no  sooner  gone,  than  the  good- 
nature and  habitual  veneration  of  the  dame  for  the  house 
of  Peveril,  and  perhaps  some  fear  for  her  counsellor's 
hones,  induced  her  to  open  the  casement,  and  cry,  but 
in  a  low*  and  timid  tone,  •■  Hist!  hist  !  Master  Julian 
— be  you  gone  ?" 

".Not  yet,  dame,"  said  Julian;  "  though  it  seems 
my  stay  is  unwelcome." 

-*  Nay,  but  good  young  master,  it  is  because  men 
counsel  so  differently  ;  for  here  was  my  poor  old  Roger 
Maine  would  have  thought  the  chimney  corner  too  cold 
for  you  :  and  here  is  Mat  Chamberlain  thinks  the  cold 
court-yard  is  warm  enough." 

-  Never  mind  that  dame,"  said  Julian  ;  "  do  but  only 
icll  me  what  has  happened  at  Martindale  Castle?  I  see 
the  beacon  is  extinguished." 

"  Is  it  in  troth  ? — ay,  like  enough — then  good  Sir 
Geoffrey  is  gone  to  Heaven  with  my  old  Roger^Raine  !" 
"  Sacred  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  Peveril  :  "  when  was 
my  father  taken  ill  ?" 

vol.  i.  21 


M4  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

"  Never,  as  I  knows  of,"  said  the  Dame;  "but, 
about  three  hours  since,  arrived  a  party  at  the  Castle, 
with  buff-coats  and  bandaliers,  and  one  of  the  Parlia- 
ment's folks,  like  in  Oliver's  time.  My  old  Roger 
Raine  would  have  shut  the  gates  of  the  inn  against. 
them,  but  he  is  in  the  church-yard,  and  Mat  says  it  is 
against  law  ;  and  so  they  came  in  and  refreshed  men 
and  horse,  and  sent  for  Master  Bridgenorth,  that  is  ai 
Moultrassie  Hall  even  now  ;  and  so  they  went  up  to 
the  Castle,  and  there  was  a  fray,  it  is  like,  as  the  old 
knight  was  no  man  to  take  napping,  as  poor  Roger 
Raine  used  to  say.  Always  the  officers  had  the  best 
on't ;  and  reason  there  is,  since  they  had  law  of  their 
side,  as  our  Matthew  says.  But  since  the  pole-star  of 
the  Castle  is  out,  as  your  honour  says,  why,  doubtless, 
♦he  old  gentleman  is  dead." 

"  Gracious  Heaven  ! — Dear  dame,  for  love  or  gold, 
let  me  have  a  horse  to  make  for  the  Castle." 

"  The  Castle?"  said  the  dame  ;  the  Round-heads,  as 
my  poor  Roger  called  them,  will  kill  you  as  they  have 
killed  your  father  !  Better  creep  into  the  wood-house, 
and  I  will  send  Bett  with  a  blanket  and  some  supper — 
Or  stay — my  old  Dobbin  stands  in  the  little  stable  be- 
side the  hen-coop — e'en  take  him,  and  make  the  best  of 
your  way  out  of  the  country,  for  there  is  no  safety  here 
for  you.  Hear  what  songs  some  of  them  are  singing  at 
the  tap ! — so  take  Dobbin,  and  do  not  forget  to  leave 
your  own  horse  instead."  . 

Peveril  waited  to  hear  no  further,  only?  that  just  as 
he  turned  to  go  off  to  the  stable,  the  compassionate  fe- 
male was  heard  to  exclaim, — "  0  Lord  !  what  will 
Matthew  Chamberlain  say  r'  but  instantly  added,  "  Lei 
him   say   what  he  will,  I  may   dispose  of  what's   mv 


own." 


With  the  haste  of  a  double-fed  hostler  did  Julian 
exchange  the  equipment  of  his  jaded  brute  with  poor 
-Dobbin",  who  stood  quietly  tugging  at  his  rack  full  of 
hay,  without  dreaming  of  the  business  which  was  thai 
night  destined  for  him.  Notwithstanding  the  darkness 
ofthe  place,  Julian  succeeded  marvelous  quickly  in  pre- 
paring for  his  journey  ;  and  leaving  his   own    horse   to 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  olO 

find  its  way  to  Dobbin's  rack  by  instinct,  he  leaped 
upon  his  new  acquisition,  and  spurred  him  sharply 
against  the  hill,  which  rises  steeply  from  the  village  to 
the  Castle.  Dobbin,  little  accustomed  to  such  exertions, 
snorted,  panted,  and  trotted  as  briskly  as  he  could,  un- 
til at  length  he  brought  his  rider  before  the  entrance 
gate  of  his  father's  ancient  seat. 

The  moon  was  now  rising,  but  the  portal  was  hidden 
from  its  beams,  being  situated,  as  we  have  mentioned 
elsewhere,  in  a  deep  recess  betwixt  two  large  flanking 
towers.  Peveril  dismounted,  turned  his  horse  loose, 
and  advanced  to  the  gate,  which,  contrary  to  his  ex- 
pectation, he  found  was  open.  He  entered  the  large 
court-yard  ;  and  could  then  perceive  that  lights  yet 
twinkled  in  the  lower  part  of  the  building,  although  he 
had  not  before  observed  them,  owing  to  the  height  of 
the  outward  walls.  The  main  door,  or  great  hall  gate, 
as  it  was  called,  was,  since  the  partially  decayed  state 
of  the  family,  seldom  opened,  save  on  occasions  of  par- 
ticular ceremony.  A  smaller  postern  door  served  the 
purpose  of  ordinary  entrance  ;  and  to  that  Julian  now 
repaired.  This  also  was  open — a  circumstance  which 
would  of  itself  have  alarmed  him,  had  he  not  already 
had  so  many  causes  for  apprehension.  His  heart  sunk 
within  him  as  he  turned  to  the  left,  through  a  small 
outward  hall,  towards  the  great  parlour,  which  the  fa- 
mily usually  occupied  as  a  sitting  apartment ;  and  his 
alarm  became  still  greater,  when,  on  a  nearer  approach. 
he  heard  proceeding  from  thence  the  murmur  of  seve- 
ral voices.  He  threw  the  door  of  the  apartment  wide  : 
and  the  sight  which  was  thus  displayed,  warranted  all 
the  evil  bodings  which  he  had  entertained. 

In  front  of  him  stood  the  old  knight,  whose  arms 
were  strongly  secured,  over  the  elbows  by  a  leathern 
belt  drawn  tight  round  them,  and  made  fast  behind  ; 
two  ruffianly  looking  men,  apparently  his  guards,  had 
hold  of  his  doublet.  The  scabbardless  sword  which  lay 
on  the  floor,  and  the  empty  sheath  which  hung  by  Sir 
Geoffrey's  side,  showed  the  stout  old  Cavalier  had  not 
been  reduced  to  this  state  of  bondage  without  an  attempt 
at  resistance.  Two  or  three  persons,  having  their  backs 
turned  towards  Julian,  sat  round  a  table,  and  appeared 


516  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

engaged  in  writing — the  voices  which  he  had  heard 
were  theirs,  as  they  murmured  to  each  other.  Lady 
Peveril — the  emblem  of  death,  so  pallid  was  her  coun- 
tenance— stood  at  the  distance  of  a  yard  or  two  from 
her  husband,  upon  whom  her  eyes  were  fixed  with  an 
intenseness  of  gaze,  like  that  of  one  who  looks  her  lasl 
on  the  object  which  she  loves  the  best.  She  was  the 
first  to  perceive  Julian  ;  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Merciful 
Heaven  ! — my  son  ! — the   misery  of  our  house  is  com- 


i» 


plet< 

"  My  son  !"  echoed  Sir  Geoffrey,  starting  from  the 
sullen  state  of  dejection,  and  swearing  a  deep  oath — 
"  thou  art  come  in  the  right  time,  Julian.  Strike  me 
one  good  blow — cleave  me  that  traitorous  thief  from  the 
crown  to  the  brisket ;  and  that  done  I  care  not  what 
comes  next." 

The  sight  of  his  father's  situation  made  the  son  for- 
get the  inequality  of  the  contest  which  he  was  about  to 
provoke. 

"  Villains,"  he  said,  "  unhand  him  !"  and  rushing  on 
the  guards  with  his  drawn  sword,  compelled  them  to  lei 
go  Sir  Geoffrey,  and  stand  on  their  own  defence. 

Sir  Geoffrey,  thus  far  liberated,  shouted  to  his  lady, 
'•'Undo  the  belt,  dame,  and  we  will  have  three  good 
blows  for  it  yet — they  must  fight  well  that  beat  both 
father  and  son." 

But  one  of  those  men  who  had  started  up  from  the 
writing-table  when  the  fray,  commenced,  prevented  La- 
dy Peveril  from  rendering  her  husband  this  assistance  ; 
while  another  easily  mastered  the  hampered  Knight, 
though  not  without  receiving  several  severe  kicks  from 
his  heavy  boots — his  condition  permitting  him  no  other 
mode  of  defence.  A  third,  who  saw  that  Julian,  young, 
active,  and  animated  with  the  fury  of  a  son  who  fights 
for  his  parents,  was  compelling  the  two  guards  to  give 
ground,  seized  on  his  collar,  and  attempted  to  master 
his  sword.  Suddenly  dropping  that  weapon,  and  snatch- 
ing one  of  his  pistols,  Julian  fired  it  at  the  head  of  the 
person  by  whom  he  was  thus  assailed.  He  did  nol 
drop,  bul  staggering  back  as  if  he  had  received  a  se  vert- 
blow,  showed  Peveril,  as  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  the  fea- 
tures of  old  Bridgenorth,  blackened  with  the  explosion 


PEVERIL  OF   THE   PEAK. 

which  had  even  set   lire  to  a  part  of  his  grey  hair.      A 

cry  of  astonishment   escaped   from   Julian  ;  and  in  the 

•  alarm  and  horror  of  the  moment,  he  was  easily  secured 

Mid  disarmed  by  those  with  whom  he  had  been  at  firsl 

ajkd»     \ 

"Heed  it  not,  Julian,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey  :  "  heed  it 
not.  my  brave  boy — that  shot  has  balanced  all  accounts  ! 
— But  how — what  the  devil — he  lives  ! — Was  your 
pistol  loaded  with  chafY ?  or  has  the  foul  fiend  given  him 
proof  against  lead  ?" 

There  was  some  reason  for  Sir  Geoffrey's  surprise, 
<ince,  as  he  spoke,  -Major  Bridgenorth  collected  him- 
self— sat  up  in  the  chair  as  one  who  recovers  from  a 
stunning  blow — then  rose,  and  wiping  with  his  hand- 
kerchief the  marks  of  the  explosion  from  his  face,  ap- 
proached Julian,  and  said,  in  the  same  cold  unaltered 
tone  in  which  he  usually  expressed  himself,  "  Young 
man  you  have  reason  to  bless  God,  who  has  this  day 
saved  you  from  the  commission  of  a  great  crime. " 

"  Bless  the  devil,  you    crop-eared  knave  !"  excl 
I'd  Sir  Geoffrey  ;   "  for  nothing  less  than  the  father  of 
all  fanatics   saved  your  brains  from  being  blown  about 
like  the  rinsings  of  Beelzebub's  porridge-pot  !" 

"  Sir  Geoffrey,"  said  Major  Bridgenorth,  **'I  have 
already  told  you,  that  with  you  I  will  hold  no  argument  : 
for  to  you  I  am  not  accountable  for  any  of  my  actions." 

••  Master  Bridgenorth,"  said  the  lady,  making  strong 
L'iforl  to  speak,  and  to  speak  with  calmness,  "  whatever 
revenge  your  christian  state  of  conscience  may  permit 
you  to  take  on  my  husband — I — I,  who  have  some  right 
to  experience  compassion  at  your  hand,  for  most  sin- 
rely  did  I  compassionate  you  when  the  hand  of  Hea- 
ven was  heavy  on  you — I  implore  you  not  to  involve 
my  son  in  our  common  ruin  ! — Let  the  destruction  of 
the  father  and  mother,  with  the  ruin  of  our  ancient 
house,  satisfy  your  resentment  for  any  wrong  which 
you  have  ever  received  at  my  husband's  hand.?? 

"Hold  your  peace,  housewife,"  said  the  Knight: 
l*  you  speak  like  a  fool,  and  meddle  with  what  con- 
cerns you  not. — Wrong  at  my  hand  ?  The  cowardly 
knave  has   ever  had   but  even  too  much  right.     Had  I 

27* 


318  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

cudgelled  the  cur  soundly  when  he  first  hayed  at  me. 
the  cowardly  mongrel  had  been  now  crouched  at  my 
feet,  instead  of  flying  at  my  throat.  But  if  I  get  through 
this  action,  as  I  have  got  through  worse  weather,  I  will 
pay  off  old  scores,  as  far  as  tough  crab-tree  and  old  iron 
will  bear  me  out." 

u  Sir  Geoffrey,"  replied  Bridgenorth,  "  if  the  birth 
you  boast  of  has  made  you  blind  to  better  principles,  it 
might  have  at  least  taught  you  civility.  What  do  you 
complain  of  ?  I  am  a  magistrate  ;  and  I  execute  a  war- 
rant, addressed  to  me  by  the  first  authority  in  the  state. 
(  am  a  creditor  also  of  yours  ;  and  law  arms  me  with 
powers  to  recover  my  own  property  from  the  hands  of 
an  improvident  debtor." 

"  You  a  magistrate  !"  said  the  Knight ;  u  much  such 
a  magistrate  as  Noll  was  a  monarch.  Your  heart  is  up. 
I  warrant,  because  you  have  the  King's  pardon  ;  and 
are  replaced  on  the  bench,  forsooth,  to  persecute  the 
poor  Papist.  There  was  never  turmoil  in  the  state 
but  knaves  had  their  vantage  by  it — never  pot  boiled^ 
but  the  scum  was  cast  uppermost." 

"  For  God's  sake,  my  dearest  husband,"   said  Lad} 
Peveril,  "  cease  this  wild  talk  !  It  can  but  incense  ^a^-~ 
ter  Bridgenorth,    who  might  otherwise   consider,  th^P 
in  common  charity " 


"  Incense  him  !"  said  Sir  Geoffrey,  impatiently  inter- 
rupting her ;  "  God's-death,  madam,  you  will  drive 
me  mad  !  Have  you  lived  so  long  in  this  world,  and  yet 
expect  consideration  and  charity  from  an  old  starved  wolf 
like  that  ?  And  if  he  had  it,  do  you  think  that  I,  or  you. 
madam,  as  my  wife,  are  subjects  for  his  charity  ? — Ju- 
lian, my  poor  fellow,  I  am  sorry  thou  hast  come  so  un- 
luckily, since  thy  petronel  Avas  not  better  loaded — but 
thy  credit  is  lost  for  ever  as  a  marksman." 

This  angry  colloquy  passed  so  rapidly  on  all  sides. 
that  Julian  scarce  recovered  from  the  extremity  of  asto- 
nishment with  which  he  was  overwhelmed  at  finding 
himself  suddenly  plunged  into  a  situation  of  such  extre- 
mity, had  no  time  to  consider  in  what  way  he  could 
most  effectually  act  for  the  succour  of  his  parents. 
To  speak  Bridgenorth  fair,  seemed  the  more  prudent 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  319 

course  ;  but  to  this  his  pride  could  hardly  sloop  ;  yet  he 
forced  himself  to  say,  with  as  much  calmness  as  he 
could  assume,  "  Master  Bridgenorth,  since  you  act  as 
I  magistrate,  I  desire  to  be  treated  according  to  thelaw> 
of  England  ;  and  demand  to  know  of  what  we  are  ac- 
cused, and  by  whose  authority  we  are  arrested?" 

"  Here  is  another  howlet  for  ye  !"  exclaimed  the  im- 
petuous old  Knight-;  "  his  mother  speaks  to  a  Puritan 
of  charity  ;  and  thou  must  talk  of  law  to  a  round-headed 
rebel,  with  a  wanion  to  you  !  What  warrant  hath  he. 
think  ye,  beyond  the  Parliament's  or  the  devil's  ?" 

"  Who  speaks  of  the  Parliament?"  said  a  person  en- 
tering, whom  Peveril  recognised  as  the  official  person 
whom  he  had  before  seen  at  the  horse-dealer's  and  who 
now  bustled  in  with  all  the  conscious  dignity  of  plenary 
authority, — "  Who  talks  of  the  Parliament  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  promise  you,  enough  has  been  found  in 
this  house  to  convict  twenty  plotters — Here  be  arms. 
and  that  good  store.      Bring  them  in,  Captain." 

;'  The  very  same,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  approach- 
ing, "  which  I  mention  in  my  printed  Narrative  of  In- 
formation, lodged  before  the  Honourable  House  oi* 
Commons  ;  they  were  commissioned  from  old  Vander 
Huys  of  Rotterdam,  by  orders  of  Don  John  of  Austria, 
for  the  service  of  the  Jesuits." 

"  Now,  by  this  light,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey  ;  "  they  are 
Hie  pikes,  musketoons,  and  pistols,  that  have  been  hid- 
den in  the  garret  ever  since  Naseby-fight !" 

"  And  here,"  said  the  Captain's  yoke  fellow;  Ever- 
ett, 'J  are  proper  priest's  trappings — antiphoners,  and 
missals,  and  copes,  I  warrant  you — ay,  and  proper  pic- 
tures too,  for  Papists  to  mutter  and  bow  over." 

"  Now  plague  on  thy  snuffling  whine,"  said  Sir 
Geoffrey;  "here  is  a  rascal  will  swear  my  grandmo- 
ther's old  farthingale  to  be  priest's  vestments  and  the 
story  book  of  Owlenspiegel,  a  Popish  missal !" 

•'But  how's  this,  Master  Bridgenorth?"  said  Topham, 
addressing  the  magistrate  ;  "  your  honour  has  been  as 
busy  as  we  have  ;  and  you  have  caught  another  knave 
while  we  recovered  these  toys.'' 


320  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Julian,  "  If  you  look  into  your 
warrant,  which  if  I  mistake  not,  names  the  persons  whom 
you  arc  directed  to  arrest,  you  will  find  you  have  no  title 
to  apprehend  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  officer,  puffing  with  important-- 
do  not  know  who  you  are  ;  but  I  would  yon  were  the 
best  man  in  England,  that  I  might  teach  you  the  respect 
due  to  the  warrant  of  the  House.  Sir,  there  steps  not 
the  man  within  the  British  seas,  but  I  will  arrest  him  on 
authority  of  this  bit  of  parchment  ;  and  I  do  arrest  you 
accordingly. — What  do  you  accuse  him  of  gentlemen  ?" 

Dangerfield  swaggered  forward,  and  peeping  under 
Julian's  hat,  "  Stop  my  vital  breath,"  he  exclaimed, 
' '  but  I  have  seen  you  before  my  friend,  an  I  could  but 
think  where  ;  but  my  memory  is  not  worth  a  bean, 
since  I  have  been  obliged  to  use  it  so  much  of  late,  in 
the  behalf  of  the  poor  state.  But  I  do  know  the  fellow  : 
and  I  have  seen  him  amongst  the  Papists — I'll  take  thai 
on  my  accursed  damnation." 

"  Why,  Captain  Dangerfield,"  said  the  Captain's 
smoother,  but  more  dangerous  associate, — "  Verily,  if 
is  the  same  youth  whom  we  saw  at  the  horse  merchant's 
to-day ;  and  we  had  matter  against  him  then,  only 
Master  Topham  did  not  desire  us  to  bring  it  out."' 

"  Ye  may  bring  out  what  ye  will  against  him  now," 
said  Topham,  "for  he  hath  blasphemed  the  warrant  of 
the  House.     I  think  ye  said  ye  saw  him  somewhere  ?" 

".Aye,  verily,"  said  Everett,  "I  have  seen  him 
amongst  the  seminary  pupils  at  St.  Omer's — he  was  who 
but  he  with  the  regents  there." 

■•'  Nay,  Master  Everett,  collect  yourself,"  said  Topham, 
•'for,  as  I  think,  you  said  you  saw  him  at  a  consult  of 
the  Jesuits  in  London." 

i  f  It  was  I  said  so,  Master  Topham,"  said  the  undaunted 
Da  ngerfield :  ' i  and  mine  is  the  tongue  that  will  swear  it. ' ' 

''Good  Master  Topham,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "you 
may  suspend  further  inquiry  at  present,  as  it  doth  but 
fatigue  and  perplex  the  memory  of  the  King's  witnesses, " 

"  You  are  wrong,  Master  Bridgenorth,  clearly  wrong. 
It  doth  but  keep  them  in  wind,  only  breathes  them  like 
greyhounds  before  a  coursing  match.*' 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  321 

••Be  it  so,"  said  Bridgenorth,  with  his  usual  indiffer- 
ence of  manner;  "but  at  present  this  youth  mast  stand 
committed  upon  a  warrant,  which  I  will  presently  sign, 
of  having  assaulted  me  while  in  discharge  of  my  duty 
as  a  magistrate,  for  the  rescue  of  a  person  legally  attached. 
Did  you  not  hear  the  report  of  a  pistol." 

••  I  will  swear  to  it,"  said  Everett. 

•  •  And  I,"  said  Dangerfield.  "While  we  were  making 
search  in  the  cellar,  I  heard  something  very  like  a  pistol- 
shot  ;  but  I  conceived  it  to  be  the  drawing  of  a  long- 
corked  bottle  of  sack,  to  see  whether  there  were  any 
Popish  reliques  in  the  inside  on't." 

"A  pistol-shot!"  exclaimed  Topham ;  "here  might 
have  been  asecondSir  Edmondbury  Godfrey's  matter. — 
Oh,  thou  real  spawn  of  the  red  old  dragon !  for  he  too 
would  have  resisted  the  House's  warrant,  had  we  not 
taken  him  something  at  unawares.  Master  Bridgenorth, 
you  are  a  judicious  magistrate,  and  a  worthy  servant  of 
the  state — I  would  we  had  many  such  sound  Protestant 
justices.  Shall  I  have  this  young  fellow  away  with  his 
parents — what  think  you? — or  will  you  keep  him  for 
re-examination  ?" 

"Master  Bridgenorth,"  said  Lady  Peveril,  in  spite 
of  her  husband's  efforts  to  interrupt  her,  "for  God's  sake, 
if  ever  you  knew  what  it  was  to  love  one  of  the  many 
children  you  have  lost,  or  her  who  is  now  left  to  you, 
do  not  pursue  your  vengeanc  to  the  blood  of  my  poor 
boy  !  I  will  forgive  you  all  the  rest — all  the  distress  you 
have  wrought — all  the  yet  greater  misery  with  "which 
you  threaten  us;  but  do  not  be  extreme  with  one  who 
never  can  have  offended  you .  Believe  that  if  your  ears  are 
shut  against  the  cry  of  a  despairing  mother,  those  which 
are  open  to  the  complaint  of  all  who  sorrow,  will  hear 
my  petition  and  your  answer." 

The  agony  of  mind  and  of  voice  with  which  Lady 
Peveril  uttered  these  words,  seemed  to  thrill  through 
all  present,  though  most  of  them  were  but  too  much 
inured  to  such  scenes.  Every  one  was  silent,  when, 
ceasing;  to  speak,  she  fixed  on  Bridgenorth  her  eyes, 
glistening  with  tears,  with  the  eager  anxiety  of  one 
whose  life  or  death  seemed  to  depend  upon  the  answer 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

to  be  returned.  Even  Bridgenorth's  inflexibility  seemed 
to  be  shaken ;  and  his  voice  was  tremulous,  as  he  an- 
swered, "Madam  I  would  to  God  I  had  the  present 
means  of  relieving  your  great  distress,  otherwise  than 
by  recommending  to  you  a  reliance  upon  Providence ; 
and  that  you  take  heed  to  your  spirit,  that  it  murmur 
not  under  this  crook  in  your  lot.  For  me,  I  am  but  as 
a  rod  in  the  hand  of  the  strongman,  which  smites  not  of 
itself,  but  because  it  is  wielded  by  the  arm  of  him  who 
holds  the  same." 

"  Even  as  I  and  my  black  rod  are  guided  by  the  Com- 
mons of  England,"  said  Master  Topham,  who  seemed 
marvellously  pleased  with  the  illustration. 

Julian  now  thought  it  time  to  say  something  in  his 
own  behalf;  and  he  endeavoured  to  temper  it  with  as 
much  composure  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  assume. 
"Master  Bridgenorth,"  hesaid,  "I  neither  dispute  your 
your  authority,  nor  this  gentleman's  warrant " 

"  You  do  not?"  said  Topham.  "  0  ho,  master  young- 
ster, I  thought  we  would  bring  you  to  your  senses  pre- 
sently." 

"Then  if  you  so  will  it,  Master  Topham,"  said 
Bridgenorth,  "thus  shall  it  be.  You  shall  set  out  with 
early  day,  taking  with  you  towards  London,  the  per- 
sons of  Sir  Geoffrey  and  Lady  Peveril ;  and  that  they 
may  travel  according  to  their  quality,  you  will  allow 
them  their  coach,  sufficiently  guarded." 

"I  will  travel  with  them  myself,"  said  Topham: 
"for  these  rough  Derbyshire  roads  are  no  easy  riding  ; 
and  my  very  eyes  are  weary  with  looking  on  these  bleak 
hills.  In  the  coach  I  can  sleep  as  sound  as  if  I  were  in 
the  house,  and  Master  Bodderbrains  on  his  legs."- 

"  It  will  become  you  so  to  take  your  ease,  Master 
Topham,"  adswered  Bridgenorth.  "  For  this  youth,  I 
will  take  him  under  my  charge,  and  bring  him  ?q)  my- 
self," 

"'I  may  not  be  answerable  for  that,  worthy  Master 
Bridgenorth,  since  he  comes  within  the  warrant  of  the 
House." 

"  Nay,  but,"  said  Bridgenorth,  "  he  is  only  under 
custody  for  an  assault,  with  the  purpose  of  a  rescue  :  and 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  323 

T  counsel  you  against  meddling  with  him,  unless  you 
have  stronger  guard.  Sir  Geoffrey  is  now  old  and  bro- 
ken, but  this  young  fellow  is  in  the  flower  of  his  youth, 
and  hath  at  his  beck  all  the  debauched  young  Cavaliers 
of  the  neighbourhood — You  will  scarce  cross  the  coun- 
try without  a  rescue.'7 

Topham  eyed  Julian  wistfully,  as  a  spider  may  be 
supposed  to  look  upon  a  stray  wasp  which  has  got  into 
his  web,  and  which  he  longs  to  secure,  though  he  fears 
the  consequences  of  attempting  him. 

Julian  himself  replied,  "I  know  not  if  this  separation 
be  well  or  ill  meant  on  your  part,  Master  Bridgenorth  ; 
but  on  mine,  I  am  only  desirous  to  share  the  fate  ofmy 
parents  ;  and  therefore  I  will  give  my  word  of  honour 
to  attempt  neither  rescue  nor  escape,  on  condition  you 
do  not  separate  me  from  them." 

•;  Do  not  say  so,  Julian,"  said  his  mother;  "abide 
with  Master  Bridgenorth — my  mind  tells  me  he  cannot 
mean  so  ill  by  us  as  his  rough  conduct  would  now  lead 
us  to  infer." 

"And  I,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey,  "  know/that  between  the. 
doors  ofmy  fathers's  house  and  the  gates  of  hell,  there 
steps  not  such  a  villain  on  the  ground  !  And  if  I  wish 
my  hands  ever  to  be  unbound  again,  it  is  because  I  hope 
for  one  downright  blow  at  a  gray  head,  that  has  hatched 
more  treason  than  the  whole  Long  Parliament." 

•'Away  with  thee,"  said  the  zealous  officer:  -is 
Parliament  a  word  for  so  foul  a  mouth  as  thine? — Gen- 
t  iMiien,"  he  added,  turning  to  Everett  and  Dangerileld, 
••  you  will  bear  witness  to  tins." 

"  To  his  having  reviled  the  House  of  Commons — by 
G — d,  that  I  will !"  said  Dangerfield  :  "I  will  take  it 
on  my  damnation." 

•*  And  verily,"  said  Everett,  "as  he  spoke  of  Par- 
iiamedMgeneraiiy,  he  hath  contemned  the  House  of 
Lords  also." 

••Why  ye  poor  insignificant  wretches,"  said  Sir 
Geoffrey,  "  whose  very  life  is  a  lie — and  whose  bread  is 
perjury — would  you  pervert  my  innocent  word's  almost 
as  soon  as  they  have  quitted  my  lips  ?  I  tell  you  the 
country  is  well  weary  of  you  :  and  should  Englishmi 


•324  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

come  to  their  senses,  the  jail,  the  pillory,  the  whipping- 
post, and  the  gibbet,  will  be  too  good  preferment  foi 
such  base  bloodsuckers.  xVnd  now,  Master  Bridgenorth, 
you  and  they  may  do  your  worst ;  for  I  will  not  open 
my  mouth  to  utter  a  single  word  while  I  am  in  the  com- 
pany of  such  knaves." 

"  Perhaps,  Sir  Geoffrey,"  answered  Bridgenorth, 
"'you  would  better  have  consulted  your  own  safety  in 
adopting  that  resolution  a  little  sooner — the  tongue  is  a 
iittle  member,  but  it  causes  much  strife. — You,  Master 
Julian,  will  please  td  follow  me,  and  without  remon- 
strance or  resistance,  for  you  must  be  aware  that  I  have 
the  means  of  compelling." 

Julian  was,  indeed,  but  too  sensible  that  he  had  no 
other  course  but  that  of  submission  to  superior  force  : 
but  ere  he  left  the  apartment,  he  kneeled  down  to  re- 
ceive his  father's  blessing,  which  the  old  man  bestowed 
not  without  a  tear  in  his  eye,  and  in  the  emphatic  words, 
*k  God  bless  thee,  my  boy;  and  keep  thee  good  and 
true  to  Church  and  King,  whatever  wind  shall  bring 
foul  weather." 

His  mother  was  only  able  to  pass  her  hand  over  his 
head,  and  to  implore  him,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  not  to 
be  rash  or  violent  in  any  attempt  to  render  them  assis- 
tance. "We  are  innocent,"  she  said,  '^my  son — we 
are  innocent — and  we  are  in  God's  hands.  Be  the 
thought  our  best  comfort  and  protection." 

Bridgenorth  now  signed  to  Julian  to  follow  him, 
which  he  did,  accompanied,  or  rather  conducted,  by 
the  two  guards  who  had  first  disarmed  him.  When 
they  had  passed  from  the  apartment,  and  were  at  the 
door  of  the  outward  hall,  Bridgenorth  asked  Julian  whe- 
ther he  would  consider  himself  as  under  parole  ;  in 
which  case,  he  said,  he  would  dispense  with  nil  other 
security  but  his  own  promise. 

Peveril,  who  could  not  help  hoping  somewnat  from 
the  favourable  and  unresentful  manner  in  which  he  was 
treated  by  one  whose  life  he  had  so  recently  attempted. 
replied,  without  hesitation,  that  he  would  give  his  pa- 
role for  twenty-four  hours,  neither  to  attempt  to  escape 
by  force  nor  by  flight. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  325 

"It  is  wisely  said/*'  replied  Bridgenorth  ;  "for 
though  you  might  cause  bloodshed,  be  assured  that  your 
utmost  efforts  could  do  no  service  to  your  parents. — 
Horses  there — horses  to  the  court-yard  !" 

The  trampling  of  the  horses  was  soori*heard  ;  and  in 
obedience  to  Bridgenorth's  signal,  and  in  compliance 
with  his  promise,  Julian  mounted  one  which  was  pre- 
sented to  him,  and  prepared  to  leave  the  house  of  his 
father's  in  which  his  parents  were  now  prisoners,  and 
to  go,  he  knew  not  whither,  under  the  custody  of  one 
known  to  be  the  ancient  enemy  of  his  race.  He  was 
rather  surprised  at  observing,  that  Bridgenorth  and  he 
were  about  to  travel  without  any  other  attendants. 

When  they  were  mounted,  and  as  they  rode  slowly 
towards  the  outer  gate  of  the  court-yard,  Bridgenorth 
said  to  him,  u  It  is  not  every  one  who  would  thus  unre- 
servedly commit  his  safety,  by  travelling  at  night,  and 
unaided,  with  the  hot-brained  youth  who  so  lately  at- 
tempted his  life." 

k -Master  Bridgenorth, "  said  Julian,  "I  might  tell 
you  truly,  that  I  knew  you  not  at  the  time  when  I  di- 
rected my  weapon  against  you  ;  but  I  must  also  add,  that 
the  cause  in  which  I  used  it,  might  have  rendered  me, 
even  had  I  known  you,  a  slight  respecter  of  your  person. 
At  present,  I  do  know  you ;  and  have  neither  malice 
against  your  person,  nor  the  liberty  of  a  parent  to  fight 
for.  Besides,  you  have  my  word  ;  and  when  was  a  Pe- 
veril  known  to  break  it?" 

"Ay,"  replied  his  companion,  "a  Peveril — a  Pe- 
veril  of  the  Peak  ! — a  name  which  has  long  sounded  like 
a  war-trumpet  in  the  land  ;  but  which  has  now  perhaps 
sounded  its  last  loud  note.  Lookback,  young  man,  on  the 
darksome  turrets  of  your  fathers  house,  which  uplift 
themsjkses  as  proudly  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  as  their 
owneijpused  themselves  above  the  sons  of  their  people. 
Think  upon  your  father,  a  captive: — yourself,  in  some 
sort,  a  fugitive — your  light  quenched — your  glory 
abased — your  estate  wrecked  and  impoverished.  Think 
that  Providence  has  subjected  the  destinies  of  the  race 
ovf  Peveril  to  one,  whom,  in  their  aristocratic  pride* 
they  held  as  a  plebeian  upstart.  Think  of  this  ;  and 
vol.   t.  28 


'326  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

when  you  again  boast  of  your  ancestry,  remember, 
that  he  who  raiseth  the  lowly  can  also  abase  the  high 
in  heart.'' 

Julian  did  indeed  gaze  for  an  instant,  with  a  swelling 
heart,  upon  the  dimly-seen  turrets  of  his  paternal  man- 
sion, on  which  poured  the  moonlight,  mixed  with  lona; 
shadows  of  the  towers  and  trees.  But  while  he  sadly 
acknowledged  the  truth  of  Bridgenorth's  observation, 
he  felt  indignant  at  his  ill-timed  triumph.  "  If  fortune 
had  followed  worth,"  he  said,  "  the  castle  of  Martin- 
dale,  and  the  name  of  Peveril,  had  afforded  no  room  for 
their  enemy's  vain-glorious  boast.  But  those  who  have 
stood  high  on  Fortune's  wheel,  must  abide  by  the  con- 
sequence of  its  revolutions.  Thus  much  I  will  at  least 
say  for  my  father's  house,  that  it  has  not  stood  unhon- 
oured  ;  nor  will  it  fall — if  it  is  to  fall — unlamented. 
Forbear  then,  if  you  are  indeed  the  Christian  you  call 
yourself,  to  exult  in  the  misfortunes  of  others,  or  to 
confide  in  your  own  prosperity.  If  the  light  of  our 
House  be  now  quenched,  God  can  rekindle  it  in  his 
own  good  time." 

Peveril  broke  off  in  extreme  surprise ;  for  as  he 
spoke  the  last  words,  the  bright  red  beams  of  the  fami- 
ly beacon  began  again  to  glimmer  from  its  wonted 
watch-tower,  chequering  the  pale  moon-beam  with  a 
ruddier  glow.  Bridgenorth  also  gazed  on  this  unex- 
pected illumination  with  surprise,  and  not,  as  it  seemed 
without  disquietude.  "  Young  man,"  he  resumed. 
il  it  can  scarcely  be  but  what  Heaven  intends  to  work 
great  things  by  your  hand,  so  singularly  has  that  au- 
gury followed  on  your  words." 

So  saying,  he  put  his  horse  once  more  into  motion  : 
and  looking  back,  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  the  beacon  of  the  Castle  was  acidly  re- 
kindled, he  led  the  way  through  the  well-kncroR  paths 
and  alleys,  to  his  own  house  of  Moultrassie,  followed  by 
Peveril,  who,  although  sensible  that  the  light  might  be 
altogether  accidental,  could  not  but  receive  as  a  good 
omen  an  event  so  intimately  connected  with  the  tradi- 
tions and  usages  of  his  family, 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  327 

They  alighted  at  the  hall-door,  which  was  hastily 
opened  by  a  female  ;  and  while  the  deep  tone  of 
Bridgenorth  called  on  the  groom  to  take  their  horses, 
the  well-known  voice  of  his  daughter  Alice  was  heard 
to  exclaim  in  thanksgiving  to  God,  who  had  restored 
her  father  in  safety. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


We  meet,  as  men  see  phantoms  in  a  dream, 
Which  glide,  and  sign,  and  sign,  and  move  their  lips, 
But  make  no  sound  ;  or,  if  they  utter  voice, 
'Tis  but  a  low  and  undistinguished  moaning, 
Which  has  nor  word  nor  sense  of  utter' d  sound. 

The  Chief  fain 


V\  e  said,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  last  chapter,  that  a 
female  form  appeared  at  the  door  of  Moultrassie-Hall ; 
and  tha^the  well-known  accents  of  Alice  Bridgenorth 
were  hSfrd  to  hail  the  return  of  her  father,  from  what 
-he  naturally  dreaded  as  a  perilous  visit  to  the  Castle  of 
Martindale. 

Julian,  who  followed  his  conductor  with  a  throbbing 
heart  into  the  lighted  hall,  was  therefore  prepared  to  see 
her  whom  he  best  loved,  with  her  arms  thrown  around 
her  father.     The  instant  she  had   quitted  his  paternal 


:J2o  FEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

embrace,  she  was  aware  of  the  unexpected  guest  who 
had  returned  in  his  company.  A  deep  blush,  rapidly 
succeeded  by  deadly  paleness,  and  again  by  a  slighter 
suffusion,  showed  plainly  to  her  lover  that  his  sudden 
appearance  was  any  thing  but  indifferent  to  her.  He 
bowed  profoundly — a  courtesy  which  she  returned  with 
equal  formality,  but  did  not  venture  to  approach  more 
nearly,  feeling  at  once  the  delicacy  of  his  own  situation 
and  of  hers. 

Major  Bridgenorth  turned  his  cold,  fixed,  gray,  me- 
lancholy glance,  first  on  the  one  of  them,  and  then  on 
the  other.  "  Some,"  he  said,  gravely,  U  would,  in  my 
case,  have  avoided  this  meeting  ;  but  I  have  confidence 
in  you  both,   although  you  are  young,  and   beset  with 

he  snares  incidental  to  your  age.  There  are  those  with- 
in who  should  not  know  that  ye  have  been  acquainted. 
Wherefore,  be  wise,  and  be  as  strangers  to  each  other.*" 
Julian  and  Alice  exchanged  glances  as  her  father  turned 
from  them,  and  lifting  a  lamp  which  stood  in  the  en- 
trance-hall, led  the  way  to  the  interior  apartment. 
There  was  little  of  consolation  in  this  exchange  of  looks  ; 
for  the  sadness  of  Alice's  glance  was  mingled  with  fear, 
and  that  of  Julian  clouded  by  an  anxious  sense  of  doubt. 
The  look  also  was  but  momentary  ;  for  Alice,  springing 

o  her  father,  took  the  light  out  of  his  hand,  and,  step- 
ping before  him,  acted  as  the  usher  of  both  into  the 
iarge  oaken  parlour,  which  has  been  already  mentioned 
as  the  apartment  in  which  Bridgenorth  had  spent  the 
hours  of  dejection  which  followed  the  death  of  his  con- 
tort and  family.  It  was  now  lighted  up  as  for  the  re- 
ception of  company  ;  and  five  or  six  persons  sat  in  it. 
in  the  plain,  black,  formal  dress  which  was  affected  by 
the  formal   Puritans  of  the  time,  in  evidence  of  their 

ontempt  of  the  manners  of  the  luxurious  jjpurt  of 
Charles  the  Second  ;  amongst  whom,  excess  ofHftdrava- 
gance  in  apparel,  like  excesses  of  every  other  kind,  was 
highly  fashionable. 

Julian  at  first  glanced  his  eyes  but  slightly  along  the 
range  of  grave  and  severe  faces  which  composed  this 
society — men,  sincere  perhaps  in  their  pretensions  to  a 
Miperior  purity  of  conduct  and  morals,   hut  in  wh 


PEVERIL  OF  THE   PEAK.  329 

that  high  praise  was  somewhat  chastened  by  an  affected 
austerity  in  dress  and  manners,  allied  to  those  Phari-. 
•>ees  of  old,  wTho  made  broad  their  phylacteries,  and 
would  be  seen  of  men  to  fast,  and  to  discharge  with  ri- 
gid punctuality  the  observances  of  the  law.  Their 
dress  was  almost  uniformly  a  black  cloak  and  doublet, 
rut  straight  and  close,  and  undecorated  with  lace  or  em- 
broidery of  any  kind,  black  Flemish  breeches  and  hose, 
square-toed  shoes,  with  large  roses  made  of  serge  rib- 
bon. Two  or  three  had  large  loose  boots  of  calf-leather, 
and  almost  every  one  was  begirt  with  a  long  rapier, 
which  was  suspended  by  leathern  thongs,  to  a  plain  belt 
of  buff,  or  of  black  leather.  One  or  two  of  the  elder 
guests,  whose  hair  had  been  thinned  by  time,  had  their 
heads  covered  with  a  scull-cap  of  black  silk  or  velvet, 
which  being  drawn  down  betwixt  the  ears  and  the  scull, 
and  permitting  no  hair  to  escape,  occasioned  the  former 
lo  project  in  the  ungraceful  manner  which  may  be  re- 
marked in  old  pictures,  and  which  procured  for  the  Pu- 
ritans the  term  of  "  prick-eared  round-heads,"  so  un- 
ceremoniously applied  to  them  by  their  contemporaries. 

These  worthies  were  ranged  against  the  wall,  each  in 
his  ancient,  high-backed,  long-legged  chair  ;  neither 
looking  towards,  nor  apparently  discoursing  with  each 
other  :  but  plunged  in  their  own  reflections,  or  await- 
ing, like  an  assembly  of  quakers,  the  quickening  power 
of  divine  inspiration. 

Major  Bridgenorth  glided  along  this  formal  society 
with  noiseless  step,  and  a  composed  severity  of  manner, 
resembling  their  own.  He  paused  before  each  in  suc- 
cession, and  apparently  communicated,  as  he  passed,  the 
transactions  of  the  evening,  and  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  the  air  of  Martindale  Castle  was  now  a  guesl 
at  Moultrassie-Hall.  Each  seemed  to  stir  at  his  brief 
detail,  like  a  range  of  statues  in  an  enchanted  hall* 
-Parting  into  something  like  life,  as  a  talisman  is#applied 
to  them  successively.  Most  of  them,  as  they  heard 
the  narrative  of  their  host,  cast  upon  Julian  a  look  ot 
curiosity,  blended  with  haughty  scorn  and  the  conscious* 
ness  of  spiritual  superiority  ;  though,  in  one  or  two  in- 
stances, the  milder  influences  of  compassion,  were  suffix 
28  * 


;oO  PliVERlL  01   iiij:  PEAK. 

cienjtly  visible. — Pcvcril  would  have  undergone  this 
gauntlet  of  eyes  with  more  impatience,  had  not  his  own 
been  for  the  time  engaged  in  following  the  motions  of 
Alice,  who  glided  through  the  apartment ;  and  only 
speaking  very  briefly,  and  in  whispers,  to  one  or  two 
of  the  company  who  addressed  her,  took  her  place  be- 
side a  treble-hooded  old  lady,  the  only  female  of  the 
party,  and  addressed  herself  to  her  in  such  earnest  con- 
versation, as  might  dispense  with  her  raising  her  head. 
or  looking  at  any  others  in  the  company. 

Her  father  put  a  question,  to  which  she  was  obliged 
to  return  an  answer — "  Where  was  Mistress  Deb- 
bitch  ?" 

u  She  had  gone  out,"  Alice  replied,  "  early  after  sun- 
set, to  visit  some  old  acquaintances  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  she  was  not  j^et  returned." 

Major  Bridgenorth  made  a  gesture  expressive  of  dis- 
pleasure ;  and,  not  content  with  that,  expressed  his 
determined  resolution  that  Dame  Deborah  should  no 
longer  remain  a  member  of  his  family.  "  I  will  have 
tjiose,"  he  said  aloud,  and  without  regarding  the  pre- 
sence of  his  guests,  "  and  those  only,  around  me,  who 
know  to  keep  within  the  sober  and  modest  bounds  of  u 
Christian  family.  Who  pretends  to  more  freedom  - 
must  go  out  from  among  us,  as  not  being  of  us." 

A  deep  and  emphatic  humming  noise,  which  was  at 
hat  time  the  mode  in  which  the  Puritans  signified  their 
applause,  as  well  of  the  doctrines  expressed  by  a  fa- 
vourite divine  in  the  pulpit,  as  of  those  delivered  in 
.private  society,  ratified  the  approbation  of  the  assessors, 
and  seemed  to  secure  the  dismission  of  the  unfortunate 
gouvernante,  who  stood  thus  detected  of  having  strayed 
>ut  of  bounds.  Even  Peveril,  although  he  had  reaped 
considerable  advantages,  in  his  early  acquaintance  with 
Alice,  from  the  mercenary  and  gossipping  disposition 
of  her  governess,  could  not  hear  of  her  dismissal  with- 
6ut  approbation,  so  much  was  he  desirous,  that  in  the 
tear  of  difficulty,  which  might  soon  approach,  Alice 
might  have  the  benefit  of  countenance  and  advice  from 
one  of  her  own  sex,  of  better  manners,  and  less  suspi- 
cious probity,  than  Mistress  Debbitch. 


PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK.  331 

Almost  immediately  after  this  communication  had  ta- 
ken place,  a  servant  in  mourning  showed  his  thin, 
pinched,  and  wrinkled  visage  in  the  apartment,  announ- 
cing, with  a  voice  more  like  a  passing  bell  than  the 
herald  of  a  banquet,  that  refreshments  were  provided  in 
an  adjoining  apartment.  Gravely  leading  the  way  him- 
self, with  his  daughter  on  one  side,  and  the  puritanical 
female  whom  we  have  distinguished  on  the  other, 
Bridgenorth  himself  ushered  his  company,  who  fol- 
lowed, with  little  attention  to  order  or  ceremony,  into 
the  eating-room,  where  a  substantial  supper  was  pro- 
vided. 

In  this  manner,  Peveril,  although  entitled,  according 
lo  ordinary  ceremonial,  to  some  degree  of  precedence 
— a  matter  at  that  time  considered  as  of  as  much  im- 
portance as  it  is  now  regarded  as  insignificant — was  left 
among  the  last  of  those  who  left  the  parlour  ;  and  might 
indeed  have  brought  up  the  rear  of  all,  had  not  one  of 
the  company,  who  was  himself  late  in  the  retreat,  bow- 
ed, and  resigned  to  Julian  the  rank  in  the  company 
which  had  been  usurped  by  others. 

This  act  of  politeness  naturally  induced  Julian  to  ex- 
amine the  features  of  the  person  who  had  offered  him 
this  civility ;  and  he  started  to  observe,  under  the  pinched 
velvet  cap,  and  above  the  short  band-strings,  the  coun- 
tenance of  Ganlesse,  as  he  called  himself — his  compan- 
ion on  the  preceding  evening.  He  looked  again  and 
again,  especially  when  all  were  placed  at  the  supper 
hoarc^  and  when,  consequently,  he  had  frequent  oppor- 
tunities of  observing  this  person  fixedly,  without  any 
breach  of  good  manners.  At  first  he  wavered  in  his 
belief,  and  was  much  inclined  to  doubt  the  reality  of 
his  recollection  ;  for  the  difference  of  dress  was  such. 
as  to  effect  a  considerable  change  of  appearance  ;  and 
the  countenance  itself,  far  from  exhibiting  any  thing 
marked  or  memorable,  was  one  of  those  ordinary  visa- 
ges which  we  see  almost  without  remarking  them,  and 
which  leave  our  memory  so  soon  as  the  object  is  with- 
drawn from  our  eyes.  But  the  impression  upon  his 
mind  returned,  and  became  stronger,  until  it  induced 
him  to  watch  with  peculiar  attention  the  manners  of  tin- 
individual  who  had  thus  attracted  his  notice. 


332  PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

During  the  time  of  a  very  prolonged  grace  before 
meat,  which  was  delivered  by  one  of  the  company — 
who,  from  his  Geneva  band  and  serge  doublet,  presided, 
as  Julian  supposed,  over  some  dissenting  congregation — 
lie  noticed  that  this  man  kept  the  same  demure  and  se- 
vere cast  of  countenance  usually  affected  by  the  Puritans, 
and  which  rather  caricatured  the  reverence  unquestion- 
ably due  upon  such  occasions.  His  eyes  were  turned 
upward,  and  his  huge  pent-house  hat,  with  a  high  crown 
and  broad  brim,  held  in  both  hands  before  him,  rose 
and  fell  with  the  cadences  of  the  speaker's  voice;  thus 
marking  time,  as  it  were,  to  the  periods  of  the  benedic- 
tion. Yet  when  the  slight  bustle  took  place  which  at- 
tends the  adjusting  of  chairs,  &c,  as  men  sit  down  to 
table,  Julian's  eye  encountered  that  of  the  stranger ;  and 
as  their  looks  met,  there  glanced  from  those  of  the  latter, 
an  expression  of  satirical  humour  and  scorn,  which 
seemed  to  intimate  internal  ridicule  of  the  gravity  of  his 
present  demeanour. 

Julian  again  sought  to  fix  his  eye,  in  order  to  ascertain 
that  he  had  not  mistaken  the  tendency  of  this  transient 
expression,  but  the  stranger  did  not  allow  him  another 
opportunity.  He  might  have  been  discovered  by  the 
tone  of  his  voice  ;  but  the  individual  in  question  spoke 
little,  and  in  whispers,  which  was  indeed  the  fashion  of 
the  whole  company,  whose  demeanour  at  table  resem- 
bled that  of  mourners  at  a  funeral  feast. 

The  entertainment  itself  was  coarse,  though  plentiful : 
and  must,  according  to  Julian's  opinion,  be  distasteful 
to  one  so  exquisitely  skilled  in  good  cheer,  and  so  capa- 
ble of  enjoying,  critically  and  scientifically,  the  genial 
preparations  of  his  companion,  Smith,  as  Ganlesse  had 
shown  himself  on  the  preceding  evening.  Accordingly, 
upon  close  observation,  he  remarked,  that  the  food 
which  he  took  upon  his  plate,  remained  there  unconsu- 
med ;  and  that  his  actual  supper  consisted  only  of  a 
crust  of  bread,  with  a  glass  of  wine. 

The  repast  was  hurried  over  with  the  haste  of  those, 
who  think  it  shame,  if  not  sin,  to  make  mere  animal  en- 
joyments the  means  of  consuming  time,  or  of  receiving 
pleasure :  and  when  the  men  wiped  their  mouths  and 


PEVER1L  OF  THE  PEAK.  333 

moustaches,  Julian  remarked,  that  the  object  of  his  cu- 
riosity used  a  handkerchief  of  the  finest  cambric — an 
article  rather  inconsistent  with  the  exterior  plainness, 
not  to  say  coarseness,  of  his  appearance.  He  used  also 
several  of  the  more  minute  refinements,  then  only  ob- 
served at  the  tables  of  the  higher  rank ;  and  Julian  thought, 
he  could  discern,  at  every  turn,  something  of  courtly 
manners  and  gestures,  under  the  precise  and  rustic  sim- 
plicity of  the  character  which  he  had  assumed. 

But  if  this  were  indeed  that  same  Ganlesse  with  whom 
Julian  had  met  on  the  preceding  evening,  and  who  had 
boasted  the  facility  with  which  he  could  assume  any 
character  which  he  pleased  to  represent  for  the  time, 
what  could  be  the  purpose  of  his  present  disguise  ?  He 
was,  if  his  own  words  could  be  credited,  a  person  of 
some  importance,  who  dared  to  defy  the  danger  of  those 
officers  and  informers,  before  whom  all  ranks  at  that 
time  trembled  ;  nor  was  he  likely,  as  Julian  conceived, 
without  some  strong  purpose,  to  subject  himself  to  such 
a  masquerade  as  the  present,  which  could  not  be  other 
than  irksome  to  one  whose  conversation  proclaimed  him 
of  light  life  and  free  opinions.  Was  his  appearance  here 
for  good  or  for  evil  ?  Did  it  respect  his  father's  house, 
or  his  own  person,  or  the  family  of  Bridgenorth  ?  Was 
the  real  character  of  Ganlesse  known  to  the  master  of 
the  house,  inflexible  as  he  was  in  all  which  concerned 
morals  as  well  as  religion  ?  If  not,  might  not  the  ma- 
chinations of  a  brain  so  subtle,  affect  the  peace  and  hap- 
piness of  Alice  Bridgenorth  ? 

These  were  questions  which  no  reflection  could  en- 
able Peveril  to  answer.  His  eyes  glanced  from  Alice 
to  the  stranger  ;  and  new  fears,  and  undefined  suspi- 
cions, in  which  the  safety  of  that  beloved  and  lovely 
girl  was  implicated,  mingled  with  the  deep  anxiety 
which  already  occupied  his  mind,  on  account  of  his  fa- 
ther, and  his  father's  house. 

He  was  in  this  tumult  of  mind,  when,  after  a  thanks- 
giving as  long  as  the  grace,  the  company  arose  from  ta- 
ble, and  were  instantly  summoned  to  the  exercise  of 
i'ymily  worship.  A  train  of  domestics,  grave,  sad,  and 
melancholy  as  their  superiors,  glided  in  to  assist  at  thi> 


.334  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

act  of  devotion,  and  ranged  themselves  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  apartment.  Most  of  these  men  were  armed  with 
long  tucks,  as  the  straight  stabbing  swords,  much  used 
by  Cromwell's  soldiery,  were  then  called.  Several 
had  large  pistols  also  ;  and  the  corslets  or  cuirasses  of 
some  were  heard  to  clank,  as  they  kneeled  down  to 
partake  in  this  act  of  devotion.  The  ministry  of  him 
whom  Julian  had  supposed  a  preacher,  was  not  used  on 
this  occasion.  Major  Bridgenorth  himself  read  and  ex- 
pounded a  chapter  of  Scripture,  with  much  strength  and 
manliness  of  expression,  although  so  as  not  to  escape 
the  charge  of  fanaticism.  The  nineteenth  chapter  of  Je- 
remiah was  the  portion  of  Scripture  which  he  selected  ; 
in  which,  under  the  type  of  breaking  a  potter's  vessel, 
the  prophet  presages  the  desolation  of  the  Jews.  The 
lecturer  was  not  naturally  eloquent ;  but  a  strong,  deep, 
and  sincere  conviction  of  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  sup- 
plied him  with  language  of  energy  and  fire,  as  he  drew 
a  parallel  between  the  abominations  of  the  worship  of 
Baal,  and  the  corruptions  of  the  Church  of  Rome — so 
favourite  a  topic  with  the  Puritans  of  that  period  ;  and 
denounced  against  the  Catholics,  and  those  who  favour- 
ed them,  that  hissing  and  desolation  which  the  prophet 
directed  against  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  His  hearers 
made  a  yet  closer  application  than  the  lecturer  himself 
suggested  ;  and  many  a  dark  proud  eye  intimated,  by  a 
glance  on  Julian,  that  on  his  father's  house  were  alrea- 
dy, in  some  part,  realized  these  dreadful  maledictions. 

The  lecture  finished,  Bridgenorth  summoned  them  to 
unite  with  him  in  prayer ;  and  on  a  slight  change  of  ar- 
rangements amongst  the  company,  which  took  place  as 
they  were  about  to  kneel  down,  Julian  found  his  place 
next  to  the  single-minded  and  beautiful  object  of  his  af- 
fection, as  she  knelt  down,  in  her  lowliness,  to  adore  her 
Creator.  A  short  time  was  permitted  for  mental  devo- 
tion ;  during  which,  Peveril  could  hear  her  half-breath- 
ed petition  for  the  promised  blessings  of  peace  on  earth, 
and  good  will  towards  the  children  of  men. 

The  prayer  which  ensued  was  in  a  different  tone,  ll 
was  poured  forth  by  the  same  person  who  had  officiated 
<s  chaplain  at  the  table ;  and  was  in  the  tone  of  a  Boan- 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  335 

erges,  or  son  of  thunder — a  denouncer  of  crimes — an  in- 
voker  of  judgments — almost  a  prophet  of  evil  and  de- 
struction. The  testimonies  and  the  sins  of  the  day  were 
not  forgotten — the  mysterious  murder  of  Sir  Edmond- 
bury  Godfrey  was  insisted  upon — and  thanks  and  praise 
were  offered,  that  the  very  night  on  which  they  were 
assembled,  had  not  seen  another  offering  of  a  Protestant 
magistrate,  to  the  blood-thirsty  fury  of  the  revengeful 
Catholics. 

Never  had  Julian  found  it  more  difficult,  during  an  act 
of  devotion,  to  maintain  his  mind  in  a  frame  befitting 
the  posture  and  the  occasion  ;  and  when  he  heard  the 
-peaker  return  thanks  for  the  downfall  and  devastation 
of  his  family,  he  was  strongly  tempted  to  have  started 
upon  his  feet,  and  charged  him  with  offering  a  tribute, 
stained  with  falsehood  and  calumny,  at  the  throne  of 
truth  itself.  He  resisted,  however,  an  impulse  which 
it  would  have  been  insanity  to  have  yielded  to,  and  his 
patience  was  not  without  its  reward  ;  for  when  his  fair 
neighbour  arose  from  her  knees,  the  lengthened  and  pro- 
longed prayer  being  at  last  concluded,  he  observed  that 
her  eyes  were  streaming  with  tears ;  and  one  glance  with 
which  she  looked  at  him  in  that  moment,  showed  more 
of  affectionate  interest  for  him  in  his  fallen  fortunes  and 
precarious  condition,  than  he  had  been  able  to  obtain 
from  her  when  his  worldly  estate  seemed  so  much  the 
more  exalted  of  the  two. 

Cheered  and  fortified  with  the  conviction  that  one  bo- 
som in  the  company,  and  that  in  which  he  most  eagerly 
ionged  to  secure  an  interest,  sympathised  with  his  dis- 
tress, he  felt  strong  to  endure  whatever  was  to  follow, 
and  shrunk  not  from  the  stern  still  smile  with  which, 
one  by  one,  the  meeting  regarded  him;  as,  gliding  to 
their  several  places  of  repose,  they  indulged  themselves 
at  parting  with  a  look  of  triumph  on  one,  whom  they 
considered  as  their  captive  enemy. 

Alice  also  passed  by  her  lover,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  and  answered  his  low  obeisance  without  raising 
them.  The  room  was  now  empty,  but  for  Bridgenorth 
and   his  guest,  or  prisoner ;   for  it  is  difficult  to   say  in 


336  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

which  capacity  Peveril  ought  to  regard  himself.  He- 
took  an  old  brazen  lamp  from  the  table,  and,  leading  the 
way,  said,  at  the  same  time,  "  I  must  be  the  uncourtly 
chamberlain,  who  am  to  usher  you  to  a  place  of  repose, 
more  rude  perhaps  than  you  have  been  accustomed  to 
occupy. " 

Julian  followed  him,  in  silence,  up  an  old-fashioned 
winding  stair-case,  within  a  turret.  At  the  landing-place 
Slia  the  top,  was  a  small  apartment,  where  an  ordinary 
pallet  bed,  two  chairs,  and  a  small  stone  table,  were  the 
only  furniture.  t  "  Your  bed,"  continued  Bridgenorth, 
as  if  desirous  to  prolong  their  interview,  "  is  not  of  the 
softest;  but  innocence  sleeps  as  sound  upon  straw  as  on 
down.*) 

"Sorrow,  Major  Bridgenorth,  finds  little  rest  on 
either,"  replied  Julian.  "Tell  me,  for  you  seem  to 
await  some  question  from  me,  what  is  to  be  the  fate  of 
my  parents,  and  why  you  separate  me  from  them  ?" 

Bridgenorth,  for  answer,  indicated  with  his  finger  the 
mark  which  his  countenance  still  showed  from  the  ex- 
plosion of  Julian's  pistol. 

"  That,"  replied  Julian,  "  is  not  the  real  cause  of  your 
proceedings  against  me.  It  cannot  be,  that  you,  who  have 
been  a  soldier,  and  are  a  man,  can  be  surprised  or  dis- 
pleased by  my  interference  in  the  defence  of  my  father. 
Above  all,  you  cannot,  and  I  must  needs  say  you  do  not. 
believe  that  I  would  have  raised  my  hand  against,  you 
personally,  had  there  been  a  moment's  time  for  recog- 
nition." 

"  I  may  grant  all  this,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  but  what 
are  you  the  better  for  my  good  opinion,  or  for  the  ease 
with  which  I  can  forgive  you  the  injury  which  you  aim- 
ed at  me?  You  are  in  my  custody  as  a  magistrate,  ac- 
cused of  abetting  the  foul,  bloody,  and  heathenish  plot, 
for  the  establishment  of  Popery,  the  murther  of  the  King, 
and  the  general  massacre  of  all  true  Protestants." 

"And  on  what  grounds,  either  of  fact,  or  suspicion, 

dare  any  one  accuse  me  of  such  a  crime?"  said  Julian. 

■  1*1  have  hardly  heard  of  the  plot,  save  by  the  mouth  of 

common  rumour,    which,  while  it  speaks  of  nothing 


PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK.  337 

else,  takes  care  to  say  nothing  distinctly  even  on  that  sub- 
ject." 

"  It  may  be  enough  for  me  to  tell  you,"  replied  Bridge- 
north,  "  and  perhaps  it  is  a  word  too  much — that  you  are  a 
discovered  intriguer — a  spied  spy — who  crrries  tokens  and 
messages  betwixt  the  Popish  Counters  o"  Derby,  and  the 
Catholic  party  in  London.  Yo  i  have  not  conducted  your 
matters  with  such  discretion,  but  that  Ins  is  well  known, 
and  can  be  sufficiently  pro\  vl.  To  t*MS  charge,  which  you 
are  well  aware  you  cannot  d^ny,  the^e  men,  Everett  and 
Dangerfield,  are  not  unw.'bing  to  ar'd.  from  t'leir  recollec- 
tion of  your  face.  ot!ier  passages,  rch«ch  wi'l  certainly  cost 
you  your  life  when  you  come  before  a  Protestant  jury." 

"  They  lie  Mke  villains,"  s.id  Pev^ril  "  who  hold  me  ac- 
cessory to  any  plot  either  against  the  King,  the  nation,  or 
the  state  of  religion  ;  and  for  the  Countess,  her  loyalty  hn- 
been  too  ?ong,  and  too  highly  proved,  to  permit  her  being 
implicated  »o  such  injurious  su«picJons." 

"  What  she  has  alre?dy  done,"  said  Bridgenorth,  his  face 
darkening  as  he  spoke,  k  against  the  faithful  champions  of 
pure  religion,  hath  sufficiently  shown  of  what  she  is  capa- 
ble. She  hath  betaken  herself  to  her  rock,  and  sits,  as  she 
thinks,  in  security,  like  the  eagle  reposing  after  his  blood\ 
banquet.  But  the  arrow  of  the  fowler  may  yet  reach  her 
— the  shaft  is  whetted— the  bow  is  bended — and  it  will  be 
soon  seen  whether  Amalek  or  Israel  shall  prevail.  But  for 
thee,  Julian  Peveril — why  should  1  conceal  it  from  thee  .' 
— my  heart  yearns  for  thee  as  a  woman's  for  her  first-born. 

To  thee  1  will  give,  at  ihe  expense  of  my  own  reputation 

perhaps  at  the  risk  of  personal  suspicion— for  who,  in  these 
days  of  doubt,  sha'l  be  exempted  from  it — to  thee,  I  say,  I  will 
give  means  of  escape,  which  else  were  impossible  to  thee. 
The  staircase  of  tnis  turret  descends  to  the  gardens — th< 
postern-gate  is  unlatched — on  the  right-hand  lie  the  stables, 
where  you  wi'l  find  your  own  horse — take  it,  and  make  for 
Liverpool — I  will  give  you  credit  with  a  friend  under  the 
name  of  Simon  S>mon~on,  one  per.  ^cuted  by  the  prelates  ; 
and  he  w'!l  expedite  your  passage  from  the  kingdom." 

"  Ma^or  Bridgenorth,"  said  Julian,  1  will  not  deceive  von. 
We^e    I   fo  accept  your  offer  of  freedom,  it  would  be  to  at- 
tend to   a  higher  call  ihan  that  of  mere  self-preservation. 
My  father  is  in  danger-  my  mother  in  sonow — the  voii 
f  religion   and  nature  call  me  to  their  side.     I  am  (heir 

VOL.    I.  2'J 


338  PEVERIL    OP    THE    PEAK. 

only  child — their  only  hope — I  will  aid  them  or  perish 
with  them." 

"  Thou  art  mad,"  said  Bridgenorth — "aid  them  thou 
canst  not — perish  with  th^m  thou  well  may'st,  ard  even  ac- 
celerate their  ruin  ;  for  in  addition  to  the  charges  with 
which  thy  unhappy  father  is  loaded,  it  would  be  no  slight 
aggravation,  that  while  he  med:ta  cd  arming  and  calling  to- 
gether the  Catholic?  and  Hi^h  Chuichmen  of  Cheshire  and 
Derbyshire,  h<s  son  sbouVi  prove  fo  be  the  coriidential  agent 
of  the  Countess  of  Derbv,  wto  aided  her  in  making  good 
her  strong-hold  against  the  Protestant  commissioners,  and 
was  despatched  by  h^r  to  open  secret  communication  with 
the  Popish  interest  in  Lordoo." 

"  You  have  twice  stated  n?e  as  such  an  agent,"  said  Peve- 
ril,  resolved  in  t  hi"  s'  ence  shouM  not  be  construed  into 
an  admission  of  the  charge,  though  he  feU  that  it  w;.s  in 
some  degree  wel?  founded — "  What  reason  have  you  for 
such  an  allegat:on  ?" 

"  Will  it  suffice  for  a  proof  of  my  intimate  acquaintance 
with  your  mystery,"  replied  Bridgenorth,  "  T  I  should  re- 
peat to  you  the  last  word«  which  the  Countess  u^ed  to  you 
when  you  )e-X  the  Castle  of  that  AmalekitLh  woman  ?  Thus 
she  spoke  4  am  a  forlorn  widow,'  she  said,  '  whom  sorrow 
has  made  selfish.'" 

Peveril  started,  for  these  were  the  very  words  the 
Countess  had  used  ;  but  he  instantly  recovered  himself, 
and  replied,  "  Be  your  information  of  what  nature  it  will, 
1  deny,  and  1  defy  it,  so  far  as  it  attaches  aught  like  guilt 
to  me.  There  lives  not  a  man  more  innocent  of  a  disloyal 
thought,  or  of  a  traitorous  purpose.  What  I  say  for  myself, 
I  will,  to  the  best  of  mv  knowledge,  say  and  maintain,  on 
account  of  the  noble  Countess,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for 
nurture." 

"  Perish  then  in  thy  obrjnacy !"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  and 
turning  hastily  from  him,  he  le*t  the  room,  and  Julian  heard 
him  hasten  down  the  narrow  staircase,  as  if  distrusting  his 
own  resolution. 

With  a  heavy  heart,  yet  with  that  confidence  in  an  over- 
ruling Providence  which  never  forsakes  a  good  and  brave 
man,  Peveril  betook  himself  to  his  lowly  place  of  repose. 


TEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  339 


CHAPTER  VIII 


The  course  of  human  life  is  changeful  still. 

rs.  the  fickle  wind  and  wandering  rill  ; 
Or.  iike  the  light  dance  which  the  wr'd  breeze  weaves 
Amidst  the  faded  race  of  fallen  leaves; 
Which  now  its  breath  bears  down,  now  tosses  high. 
Beats  to  the  earth,  or  wafts  to  middle  sky. 
Such,  and  so  varied   the  precarious  play 
Of  fate  with  man,  frail  tenant  of  a  day. 

Anonymous. 

Whilst,  overcome  with  fatigue,  and  worn  out  by  anxiety, 
Julian  Peveril  slumbered  as  a  prisoner  in  the  house  of  his 
hereditary  enemy.  Fortune  was  preparing  his  release  by 
one  of  those  sudden  frolics  with  which  sLo  loves  tO  con- 
found the  calculaaons  and  expectancies  ol  human'iv  ;  and 
as  she  fixes  on  strange  agents  for  such  purposes,  she  con- 
descended to  employ,  on  ti  e  p.esent  occasion*  no  less  a 
personage  than  Mistress  Deborah  De'obitch. 

Instigated,  doubtless,  by  the  pristine  reminiscences  of 
former  times,  no  sooner  had  that  most  prudent  and  consi- 
derate dame  found  herself  in  the  vici  itv  of  the  scenes  of 
her  earlier  days,  than  she  bethought  herself  of  a  visit  to 
the  ancient  housekeep  *r  of  Martindale  Castle,  D=:me  Elles- 
mere  by  mime,  who.  long  retired  *rom  active  service, 
resided  at  ihe  keeper's  Iodg-»,  '  i  f  e  west  thicket,  with 
her  nephew,  Lance  Outram,  subsisting  upon  the  savings  of 
her  better  days,  and  on  a  small  pension  avowed  by  Sir 
Geoffrey  to  her  age  and  ;'  ithtul  services. 

Now  Dame  El  esmere  ard  Mistress  Deborah  had  not  by 
any  means  been  formerly  oi  Id  friendly  a  footing,  as  this 
haste  o  visit  her  might  be  supposed  to  intimate.  But 
years  bad  taugh  Deborah  to  ibrget  and  fo  give  ;  or  perhaps 
•she  had  no  special  objection  under  rover  of  a  visit  to  Dame 
Ellesmere,  to  take  '  e  ch  ceo"  seeing  what  changes  time 
had  made  on  her  o1'!  -,  dourer  the  keeper.  Both  inhabitants 
were  in  the  cottage,  when,  a  er  having  seen  her  master  set 
forth  on  his  expedition  to  ne  Casl  e,  Mistress  Debbitch, 
dressed  in  her  very  best  pwn,  footed  it  through  gutter, 
and  over  siile,  and  by  pathway  green,  to  knock  at  their 
door,  and  to  liir  the  LLch  a.  the  hospitable  invitation  which 
bade  her  come  in. 

Dame  Ellesmere's  eyes  were  so  dim,  that  even  with  the 
aid  of  spectacles  she  failed  to  recogn;ze,  in  the  portly  and 
mature  personage  who  entered  their  cottage,  the  tight  well- 
made  lass,  who,  presuming  on  her  good  looks  end  flippant 


MO  FEVERIL    OF    THE    FEAK. 

tongue,  bad  so  often  provoked  her  by  insubordination:  and 
her  former  lover,  tbe  redoubled  Lance,  not  being  conscious 
lhat  ale  had  given  rotundity  to  h;s  own  figure,  which  was 
formerly  so  slight  and  active,  and  that  brandy  bad  trans- 
ferred to  his  nose  the  colour  which  had  once  occupied  his 
cheeks,  was  unable  o  discover  that  Deborah's  French  cap. 
composed  of  sarsenet  ar  I  Brussels  lace,  shaded  the  fea- 
tures which  had  .o  often  procured  him  a  rebuke  from  Dr. 
Dummerar,  for  suffering  Irs  eyes,  during  the  time  of 
prayers,  to  wande-  to  the  maid-ser^ais'  bench. 

In  brief,  the  blushing  visiter  was  compelled  to  make  her- 
self known  ;  and  when  known,  was  received  by  aunt  and 
nephew  with  the  most  sincere  cordially. 

The  home-brewed  was  produced ;  and  in  lieu  of  more 
vulgar  food,  a  f '  w  s'ices  of  venison  was  presently  hissed  in 
the  frying-p;ji,  giving  strong  room  .'or  i  iference  that  Lance 
Oulram,  in  his  capacity  of  keeper,  neglected  not  bis  own 
cottage,  when  he  supplied  the  larder  at  the  Castle.  A  modest 
sip  of  the  exce''e  n  Derbyshire  ale,  and  a  tasting  of  the  highly- 
seasoned  hash,  soo  1  placed  Deborah  entirely  at  home  with 
her  old  acquaintance. 

Having  put  all  necessary  questions,  and  received  all  suit- 
able answers,  respecting  the  state  of  the  neighbourhood,  and 
such  of  her  own  friends  as  continued  to  reside  there,  the 
conversation  began  rather  to  flag,  until  Deborah  found  the 
art  of  again  renewing  its  interest,  by  communicating  to  her 
friends  the  dismal  intelligence  that  they  must  soon  look  for 
deadly  bad  news  from  the  Castle  ;  for  that  her  present  mas- 
ter, Major  Bridgenorth,  had  been  summoned,  by  some  great 
people  from  London,  fo  assist  in  taking  her  old  master,  Sir 
Geoffrey  ;  and  that  aM  Master  Bridgenorth's  servants,  and 
several  other  persons  whom  she  named,  friends  and  adhe- 
rents of  the  same  interest,  had  assembled  a  force  to  surprise 
the  Castle ;  and  that  as  Sir  Geoffrey  was  now  so  old,  and 
gouty  withal,  it  could  not  be  expected  he  should  make  the 
defence  he  was  wont ;  and  then  be  was  known  to  be  so  stout- 
hearted, that  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  would  yield 
up  without  stroke  of  ..word  ;  and  then  if  he  was  killed,  as 
he  was  like  to  be,  among  them  thatl'ked  never  a  bone  of  his 
body,  and  now  had  him  it  their  mercy,  why,  in  that  case,  she, 
Dame  Deborah,  would  look  upon  Lady  Peveril  as  little  bet- 
ter than  a  dead  woman  ;  and  undoubtedly  there  would  be  a 
general  mourning  through  all  that  country,  where  they  had 
such  great  kin  ;  and  silks  were  like  to  rise  on  it,  as  Master 
Lutestiing,  the  mercer  of  Chesterfield,  was  like  to  feel  in  his 


i 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  341 

purse  bottom.  But  'or  her  part,  let  matters  wag  how  they 
wouid,  an  if  Master  Julian  Peveril  was  to  come  to  his  own, 
she  could  give  as  near  a  guess  as  e'er  another  who  was  like 
to  be  Lady  at  Martind«.le. 

The  text  of  this  lecture,  or,  in  other  words,  the  fact  that 
Bridgenorth  was  gone  with  a  party  to  attack  Sir  Geoffrey 
Peveril  in  his  own  castle  u.  Mai  andale,  sounded  so  stunningly 
strange  in  tJe  ears  of  those  old  retainers  of  his  family,  that 
they  had  to  power  either  to  attend  to  Mistress  Deborah's 
inferences,  o:  to  interrupt  he  velocity  of  speech  with  which 
she  poured  them  forth.  And  when  at  length  she  made  a 
breathless  pause,  all  that  poor  Dame  Ellesmere  could  reply, 
was  the  emphatic  quesuon,  ■'  B;  dgenorth  brave  Peveril  of 
the  Peak ! — Is  the  woman  mad  ?  ' 

"  Come,  co  ne,  d<?me,"  said  Deborah,  "  woman  me  no 
more  than  I  woman  you.  I  have  not  been  called  Mistress 
at  the  head  of  the  t.hle  for  so  many  years,  to  be  woman'd 
here  by  yoj.  And  Tor  i?e  news,  it  is  as  true  as  that  you  are 
sitting  there  in  a  white  hood,  who  will  wear  a  black  one  ere 
long." 

"  Lance  Outram,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  make  out,  if 
thou  be's.  a  man,  and  listen  about  if  aught  stirs  up  at  the 
Castle." 

"  If  there  should,"  said  Outram,  "  I  am  even  too  long 
here;"  and  he  caugh  up  his  cross-bow,  and  one  or  two  ar- 
rows, and  rushed  out  of  the  cottage. 

"  Well-a-day !"  said  Mistress  Deborah,  "see  if  my 
news  have  not  frightened  away  Lance  Outram  too,  whom 
they  used  'o  say  nothing  could  start.  But  do  not  take  on  so; 
dame  ;  for  I  dare  say  if  the  Castle  and  the  lands  pass  to  my 
new  master,  Major  Bridgenorth,  as  it  is  like  they  will — for 
I  have  heard  that  he  has  powerful  dob^s  over  the  estate — you 
shall  have  my  good  word  with  him,  and  I  promise  you  he  is 
no  bad  man  ;  something  precise  about  preaching  and  pray- 
ing, and  about  the  dress  which  one  should  wear,  which,  I 
must  own,  beseems  not  a  gentleman,  as,  to  be  sure,  every 
woman  knows  best  what  becomes  her.  But  to  you,  datue,  that 
wear  a  prayer  book  at  yourgirdle,  with  your  houses  ife-case. 
and  never  change  the  fashion  of  your  white  hood,  i  dare  'a} 
he  will  not  grudge  you  the  little  matter  you  need,  and  are 
not  able  to  win." 

v  "  Out,  sordid  jade  !"  exclaimed  Dame  Ellesmere,  her  very 
flesh  quivering  betwixt  apprehension  and  ang'  r,  "and  hold 
your  peace  this  instant,  or  I  will  find  those  that  shall  fiay  the 

29* 


342  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

very  hide  from  thee  with  dog- whips.  Hast  thou  eat  thy 
noble  master's  bread,  not  only  to  betray  "his  trust,  and  fly 
from  his  service  but  wouldst  thou  come  here,  like  an  ill- 
omened  bird  as  thou  art,  to  triumph  over  their  downfal  ?" 

'fc  Nay,  dame,'  said  Deborah,  over  whom  the  vio'ence  of 
the  old  woman  had  obtained  a  certain  predominance  ;  "it  is 
not  I  that  say  i<: — only  the  warrant  of  the  Parliament  lolks." 

"  I  thought  we  had  done  with  the;r  warrants  ever  since 
the  blessed  twenty-ninth  of  May,"  said  the  old  housekeeper 
of  Martinda'e  Castle  :  "  but  this  I  tell  thee-  sweetheart,  that 
I  have  seen  such  warrants  crammed,  at  the  sword's  point, 
down  the  throat  of  them  that  brought  them;  and  so  shall  this 
be,  if  there  is  one  true  man  lettto  drink  of  the  Dove." 

As  she  spoke,  Lance  Ouiram  re-eniered  the  cottage. 
"Naunt,"  he  said  in  dismay,  "  I  doubt  it  is  true  what  she 
says.  The  beacon  tower  is  as  bl?ck  as  my  belt.  No  Pole- 
star  of  Peveril.     What  does  that  betoken  ?" 

"  Death,  ruin,  and  captivity,"  exclaimed  old  Ellesmere. 
"  Make  for  the  Castle,  thou  knave.  Thrust  in  thy  great 
body.  Strike  for  the  house  that  bred  thee  and  fed  thee  ;  and 
if  thou  art  buried  under  the  rohs,  thou  diest  a  man's  death.'* 

"  Nay,  naunt,  1  shall  not  be  dack,"  answered  Outram. 
"  But  here  come  folks  that  I  warrant  can  tell  us  more  on't.;: 

One  or  two  of  the  female  servants,  who  had  fled  from  the 
Castle  during  the  alarm,  now  rushed  in  wkh  various  reports 
of  the  case;  but  all  agreeing  that  a  body  of  armed  men  were 
in  possession  of  the  Castle,  and  that  Major  Bridgenorth  had 
taken  young  master  Julian  prisoner,  and  conveyed  him  down 
to  Moultrassie-Hall,  with  his  feet  tied  under  the  belly  of  the 
nag — a  shameful  sight  to  be  seen — and  he  so  well  born  and 
so  handsome. 

Lance  scratched  his  head  ;  and  though  feeling  the  duty 
incumbent  upon  him  as  a  faithful  servant,  which  was  indeed 
specially  dinned  info  him  by  the  cries  and  exclamations  of 
his  aunt,  he  seemed  not  a  little  dubious  how  to  conduct  him- 
self. "  I  would  to  God,  naunt,"  he  said  at  last,  "that  Old 
Whitaker  were  alive  now,  with  his  long  stories  about  Mars- 
ton-moor  and  Edgehill,  that  made  us  all  yawn  our  jaws  off 
their  hinges,  in  spite  of  broiled  rashers  and  double-beer. 
When  a  man  is  missed,  he  is  moaned,  as  they  say  ;  and  I 
would  rather  than  a  broad  piece  he  had  been  here  to  have 
sorted  this  matter,  for  it  is  clean  out  of  my  way  as  a  woods- 
man, that  have  no  skill  of  war.  But  dang  it,  if  old  Sir  Geof- 
frey go  to  the  wall  without  a  knock  for  it !  Here  you,  Nell— 
(speaking  to  one  of  the  fugitive  maidens  from  the  Castle) — 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  343 

but,  no — you  have  not  the  heart  of  a  cat,  and  are  afraid  of 
your  own  shadow  by  moonlight — But,  Cis,  you  are  a  stout- 
hearted wench,  and  know  a  buck  iVom  a  bu'tinch.  Hark  thee. 
Cis,  as  you  would  wish  to  be  married,  get  up  to  Cast'e  again. 
and  get  thee  in — thou  besv  knowest  where — rortroj  has  oft 
gotten  out  of  postern  to  a  dance,  or  junketiing.  to  my  know- 
ledge— Get  thee  back  to  the  Castle,  as  ye  hope  to  be  mar- 
ried— See  my  lady — Lhey  cannot  hinder  thee  o  '  that — my 
lady  has  a  head  worth  twenty  of  ours — If  I  am  to  gather 
force,  light  up  the  beacon  for  a  signal  ;  and  spare  not  a  tar 
barrel  on't.  Thou  mav'stdo  it  safe  enough.  I  warrant  the 
Roundheads  busy  wJih  d^ink  and  plunder. — And  haik  fhee, 
say  to  my  lady  1  am  gone  down  to  the  miners'  houses  a:  Bo- 
nadventure.  The  rogues  were  mutinying  ior  their  wages 
but  yesterday  ;  they  will  be  all  ready  for  good  or  bad.  Let 
her  send  orders  down  to  me  ;  or  do  you  come  youself,  your 
legs  are  long  enough." 

"  Whether  they  are  or  not,  Master  Lance,  (and  you  know 
nothing  of  the  matter,)  ..hey  sha'i  do  your  errand  to-night, 
for  love  of  the  old  Kn'ghi  and  bis  lady." 

So  Cisly  Sellok,  a  kind  of  Derbyshire  Camilla,  who  had 
won  the  smock  at  the  foot-race  at  Ashbourne,  spi  jng  for- 
ward towards  the  Castle,  with  a  speed  which  few  could  have 
equalled. 

"  There  goes  a  mettled  w~nch  "  said  Lance  ;  "  and  now. 
naunt,  give  me  the  old  broad-swo  J--:L  B  above  the  bed- 
head— and  my  wocj-knife  ;  and  I  slHl  c'o  wcl    enough." 

"  And  what  is  to  become  of  me  ?"  b'eat^d  the  unfortu- 
nate Mistress  Deborah  D^bbitch. 

"You  must  remain  here  with  my  aunt,  Mistress  Deb: 
and  for  old  acquaintance  sake,  she  will  take  care  no  harm 
befalls  you  ;  but  take  heed  how  you  attempt  to  break 
bounds." 

So  saying,  and  pondering  in  his  own  mind  the  task  which 
he  had  undertaken,  the  hardy  forester  strode  down  the 
moonlight  glade,  scarcely  hearing  the  blessings  and  cautions 
which  Dame  Ellesmere  kept  showering  after  him.  His 
thoughts  were  not  altogether  warlike.  "  What  a  tight  ancle 
the  jade  hath! — she  trips  It  like  a  doe  in  summer  over  the 
dew.  Well,  but  heie  are  the  huts — Let  us  to  tlrs  gear. — 
Are  ye  a'l  asleep,  ye  datnmers,  sinkers,  and  drift-drivers  . 
turn  out,  ye  subterranean  badgers.  Here  is  your  master. 
Sir  Geoffrey,  dead,  for  aught  you  know  or  care.  Do  not 
you  see  the  beacon  is  unlit,  and  you  sit  there  like  so  many 
asses." 


3  11  PEVERIL    OF    THE    TEAK. 

"  Why,"  answered  one  of  the  miners,  who  now  began  to 
come  out  of  their  huts, 

"  An'  he  be  dead, 

He  will  eat  no  more  bread." 

Ci  And  you  are  like  to  eat  none  neither,"  said  Lance  ; 
:'for  the  works  wll  be  presently  stopped,  and  all  of  you 
turned  off." 

"  We1!,  and  what  of  it.  Master  Lance  ?  As  good  play  for 
nought  as  work  for  nought.  Here  is  four  weeks  we  have 
scarce  seen  the  colour  of  >^ir  Geoffrey's  ^oin  ;  and  you  ask 
us  to  care  whether  he  be  dead  or  in  hie  !  For  you,  that  goes 
about  trotting  upon  your  horse,  <uvi  do»ng  for  work  what 
all  men  do  for  pleasure,  it  mi'v  be  well  o  *ough  ;  but  it  is 
anoiher  matter  to  be  leaving  God  s  l«gbt,  and  burrowing  all 
day  and  n'^ht  in  darkne  s,  like  a  toad  in  a  ho^ — that's  not 
to  be  done  for  nought,  I  trow  •  and  '  Sir  Ceo  ey  is  dead, 
his  soul  will  suffer  for't ;  and:0  he's  alive,  we"!  have  him  in 
the  Barmoot  Court." 

"  Hark  ye,  Gaffer,"  said  Lance,  "  and  take  notice,  my 
mates,  all  of  you,"  for  a  considerable  number  of  these  rude 
and  subterranean  peope  bad  now  assembled  *o  hear  the 
discussion — "  Has  Sir  Geoffrey,  think  you,  ever  pu.  a  penny 
in  bis  pouch  out  of  this  s«,me  Bonad venture  mine  2  ' 

"  I  cannot  say  as  I  think  he  has,'*  answered  old  Ditchley, 
the  party  who  maintained  the  controversy. 

"Answer  on  your  conscience,  though  it  be  but  a  leaden 
one,  Do  not  you  know  that  he  hath  lost  a  <jood  penny?" 

"  Why,  f  be'ieve  he  may,"  said  Gaffer  Ditchley.  "  What 
then  ? — lose  to-day,  w;n  to-morrow — the  miner  must  eat  in 
in  the  mean  time." 

"True  ;  but  what  will  you  eat  when  Master  Bridgenorth 
gets  the  land,  'hat  will  not  hear  of  a  mine  being  wrought  on 
his  own  ground7  Will  he  work  on  at  dead  loss,  think  ye  ?*" 
demanded  trusty  Lance. 

■k  Bridgenorth  ? — he  of  Moultrassie-Hall,  that  stopped  the 
great  Felicity  Work,  on  which  his  father  laid  out  some  say 
ten  thousand  pounds,  and  never  got  ;n  a  penny  ?  Why,  what 
has  he  to  do  with  Sir  Geoffrey  s  property  down  here  at 
Bonadventure  ?  It  was  never  his,  I  trow.'' 

"  Nay,  what  do  1  know,"  answered  Lance,  who  saw  the  im- 
pression he  had  made.  "  Law  and  debt  will  give  him  half 
Derbyshire,  I  think,  unless  you  st,,nd  by  old  Sir  Geoffrey." 

"  But  if  Sir  Geoffrey  be  dead,"  said  Ditchley.  cautiou^lv. 
v  •  what  good  will  our  standing  by  do  to  him  ? 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  345 

"1  did  not  say  he  was  dead,  but  only  as  bad  as  dead  ;  in 
<he  hands  of  the  Roundhead. — a  prisoner  up  yonder,  at  his 
own  C.stle,"  st'd  Lance  :  "and  will  have  h:s  head  cut  off, 
like  *he  good  Earl  o°  Derby's,  at  Bolton-le-Moors." 

"  Nav,  tien,  comrades,"  seks  Gaffer  Di-'rh'ey,  'an  it  be 
as  Master  Lance  says,  I  think  we  should  bear  a  hnnd  for 
stout  old  Sir  Geoffrey,  against  a  low-born,  mean-cpirited 
fellow  ,:ke  Bridgnorth,  who  shut  up  a  snail,  had  cost  thou- 
sands, wi^out  geiling  a  penny  pro.n  o.o't.  So  hurra  for  Sir 
Geoffrey,  and  down  wi  i  ihe  rumn  !  But  bold  ye  a  blink — 
hold — (and  Jie  waving  of  lis  hand  stopped  the  commencing 
cheer) — Hark  ye,  Master  Lane  \  ;t  roust  be  a"  over,  for  the 
beacon  is  as  black  as  night ;  and  you  know  you rsejf  that  marks 
the  Lord's  dea.b." 

"  It  will  kindle  ag  .in  ;n  an  instant,"  said  Lance  ;  internally 
adding,  "  I  pray  to  God  ic  may  ! — Jt  w;ll  kind.e  in  an  instant 
— lack  of  fu'l,  and  the  coniu.>'on  of  the  family." 

"  Ay,  like  enow,  lik°.  enow,':  said  Ditchley  ;  "  but  I  winna 
budge  t'll  I  see  it  bl  z>ng." 

"  Why  then,  there  a  ;  oes  ?"  said  Lance.  "Thank  thee, 
Cis — thank  thee,  my  \,ood  wench.  Bofieve  your  own  eyes, 
my  lads,  if  you  will  not  ber<eve  me  •  and  now  hurra  /or  Pe- 
veril  of  the  Peak — the  king  and  his  friends — and  down  with 
Rumps  and  Poundheads!" 

The  sudden  rekindling  of  the  beacon  had  all  the  effect 
which  Lance  cou'd  have  desired  uoon  the  rr'ndsof  his  rude 
and  ignorant  hearers,  who,  ;n  .heir  supers*  ^ous  humour, 
had  siiongly  associated  the  Polai-siar  of  Peveril  wiji  the 
fortunes  of  the  f  nrly.  Once  moved,  according  to  the 
national  character  of  their  countrymen  they  soon  became 
enthusiastic  ;  and  Lance  found  him>e'f  at  the  head  of  thirty 
stout  fellows  and  upwards,  armed  wi  h  their  pick-axes,  and 
ready  to  execute  whatever  t..sk  he  should  impose  on  them. 

Trust:ng  to  enter  the  castle  by  tl  e  postern,  which  had 
served  to  accommodate  himself  and  other  domestics  upon  an 
emergency,  bis  onlv  anniety  w;.s  to  beep  h\:  march  silent  ; 
and  he  earnest'y  recommended  ;o  his  followers  to  reserve 
their  shouts  for  the  moment  of  the  attack.  They  had  not 
advanced  far  b  i  their  road  to  the  Castle,  when  Cisly  Sellok 
met  them,  so  breathles^  with  haste,  that  the  poor  girl  was 
obliged  to  throw  herseJf  ;nto  Master  L    ice's  arms. 

"  Stand  up,  my  mettled  wench  "  said  he,  giving  her  a  si* 
kiss  at  'he  same  time,  "and  let  us  know  what  is  going  on  up 
at  the  Castle." 

"  My  lady  bids  you,  as  you  would  serve  God  and  your 


J4G  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

master,  rot  to  come  up  to  the  Castle,  which  can  but  make 
bloodshed  ;  for  she  savs  Sir  Geoffrey  is  lawfully  in  hand,  and 
that  he  mu.t  oide  ihe  issue  ;  and  -hat  he  is  innocent  of  what 
he  is  changed  with,  and  is  ^oim;  up  to  speak  for  himself 
before  King  and  Council,  and  she  ~o<v  up  with  h:m.  And 
bebides,  th^y  h  ve  fourd  oit  he  postern,  the  Roundhead 
rogues:  for  two  of  tiiem  s.  w  nre  when  I  went  out  of  door,  and 
chased  me  ;  but  I  showed  <  horn  a  f  ir  p-  :rof  I  ee's.' 

"As  ever  dished  dew  ■  om  the  cowslip,'  said  Lnnce. 
"  But  wb;U  i.he  foul  fiend  is  to  be  done  ?  ior  ;f  he  v  have  se- 
cured the  postern,  I  know  not  how  the  d'ckens  we  can 
get  in." 

"  A'!  is  fastened  wiih  bolt  and  staple,  and  guarded  with  gun 
and  pi.r.ol,  at  tie  Cstle,"  quoth  C*Ay  ;  "and  _o  sLiarp  are 
they,  thi  1 1  ;ey  ni  h  caught  me  '-.oming  with  my  ladv's  mes- 
sage, as  I  told  3  ou.  But  my  lady  says,  if  you  could  deliver 
her  son,  Lias' er  Julian,  .  om  Bridgenorth,  that  she  would 
ho'd  it  good  service." 

"  What."  sa;d  Lance  •'  ;s  young  master  at  the  Castle  ?  I 
taught  him  *o  s'joot  bis  first  sh ,..t.     But  bow  to  get  in  ?" 

"  He  was  tX  the  Cas'  e  in  the  m"  1-t  of  |  le  ruffle,  but  old 
Bridgenorth  buscarr'ed  him  down  prisoner  to  the  Hall,"  an- 
swered C:  ly.  "  There  w.  never  ■'  kh  nor  courtesy  in  an 
old  Puritan,  who  never  had  pipe  and  tabor  "i  his  house  since 
it  was  built." 

"  Or  who  stopped  a  promising  mine,"  said  Ditchby,  "to 
save  a  few  thousand  pound  ,  when  he  might  h«ive  made  Hm- 
self  as  rich  as  Lord  of  Chatsworth,  and  fed  a  hundred  good 
fellows  aM  the  whilst." 

"  Why,  then,'  sad  Lance,  "  since  you  are  all  of  a  mind, 
we  will  o  draw  the  cov  ^r  for  tve  old  badger  ;  and  1  promise 
you  ina*.  ihe  Hall  is  not  J  be  one  of  your  real  houses  orqua- 
lity,  where  the  walls  are  as  Uu'ck  as  whinstone-f'":es,  but 
foolish  brick-worU,  that  your  pVi-axes  wi'l  work  through  as 
if  it  were  cheese,  Huzza  once  more  for  Peveril  of  the  Peak! 
down  wi  h  Bridgnorth,  and   '.I  upstart  cuckold  y  Roundheads  !" 

Having  indulged  the  thro«ts  of  his  followers  with  one  bux- 
om huzza,  Lance  commanded  them  to  cease  their  clamours, 
and  proce^  Wl  to  conduct  them,  by  such  paths  as  seemed  the 
least  likely  .o  be  watched,  o  *he  court-yard  oi  Moultrassie- 
Hall.  On  the  rond  they  we  e  joined  by  several  stout  yeo- 
men farmers,  either  fol'owers  of  the  Peveril  family,  or 
friends  to  the  High-Church  and  Cavalier  party:  most  of 
whom,  alarmed  by  the  news  which  began  to  fly  fast  through 
the  neighbourhood,  were  armed  with  sword  and  pistol. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  347 

Lance  Outram  halted  his  party,  at  the  distance,  as  he  him- 
self described  it,  of  aflight-shoi  from  the  house,  and  advan- 
ced alone,  and  in  silence,  to  reconnoitre  ;  and  having  pre- 
viously commanded  Ditchley  and  his  subterranean  allies  to 
come  to  his  assistance  whenever  he  should  whistle,  he 
crept  cau-iously  forward,  and  soon  found  that  those  whom 
he  came  to  surprise,  true  *othe  discipline  which  had  gained 
their  party  such  decided  superiority  during  (toe  Civil  War, 
had  posted  a -".  it'nel  wh  )  paced  through  !,e  court-yard, 
piouJy  cliaunJng  a  psalm-tui  e,  while  his  arms,  crossed  on 
his  bosom,  supported  a  gun  of  formidable  length. 

"  Now  a  true  soldier,"*  sad  Lance  Outram  to  himself. 
;i  would  put  stop  to  thy  snivelling  d\iy,  by  m;.kh -r  a  broad 
arro  v  nu'ver  in  yoer  hear;,  ard  no  sre.*:  alarm  givm.  But 
dang  it,  .1  h  ve  not  the  .  ghi  spirit  for  a  soldier — 1  cannot 
fight  a  m-c"i  i  my  b'ood's  up  ;  and  for  shooting  him  from 
behind  a  wall,  it  is  cruelly  like  to  stalking  a  deer.  I'll  e'en 
face  him    and  t  y  what  to  m;  ke  of  him.' 

With  tb'  doughty  ie?olut:on,  ,<nd  taking  no  further  care 
to  conceal  himself,  he  entered  the  coart-yaid  boldly,  and 
was  making  forward  fo  the  front  door  of  the  HaH,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course  Bui  the  o'd  Cromweliiau,  who  was  on  guard, 
had  not  so  learned  ta  d,  y.  •*  Who  goes  t'lere? — Stand, 
friend—  -  and  :  or,  verily,  I  will  *hoot  thee  o  death  !'  were 
challenges  wh'ch  followed  edch  other  quir';,  t'e  last  being 
enforced  by  the  levelling  and  presenting  the  said  long-bar- 
relid  gun  w\h  which  he  was  armed. 

♦'  Why,  vvh;  l  a  murrain  !"  a  :sw  >~ed  Lance.  "  Is  ii:  your 
fashion  to  go  a  shooting  at  this  time  o'night  .;  Why  this  is 
but  a  lime  for  b  .-fowling." 

11  Nay,  b  k  hark  ihee,  friend."  said  the  experienced  sen- 

"I  am  none  of  those  who  do  this  work  negligently. 

Thou    can-^t   not  snare  me  with  thy  crafty  speech,  though 

thou    wojV.  i  make  it  to  sound  simple  in  mine  ear.     Of  a 

ventv,  I  will  shoot  unle-s  thou  tell  thv  name  and  business.'* 

'•  Name!"  s.tid  Lance  ;  v  why  what  a  dickens  should  it 
be  but  P  obi  n  Round — honest  Flo  bm  of  Red  ham  ?  and  for 
business,  an  you  must  needs  know.  I  come  on  a  message  from 
some  Parliament  mm,  up  yonder  *t  the  0  istle,  with  letters 
for  worshipful  Master  Bridgenoi  th  of  Moultrassie  Hall  ;  and 
this  be  the  place,  as  I  think  :  though  why  ye  he  marching 
up  and  down  at  his  door,  like  the  sign  of  the  Red  Man,  with 
your  old  firelock  there.  I  c;mnot  so  well  guess." 

"Give  me  the  letters, Hi)  friend,'"  said  the  sentinel,  to 
whom  this    explanation  seemed  very  natural  and  probable 


348  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

;<  and  I  will  cause  them  forthwith  to  be  delivered  into  his 
worship's  own  hand." 

Rummagng  ;n  his  pockets,  as  if  to  pull  oat  the  letters 
which  never  existed,  Master  Lance  approached  within  the 
sentinel's  piece,  and  before  he  was  aw..re,  suddenly  seized 
him  by  .he  collar,  whistled  sharp  and  shrill,  and  exerting 
his  sk  11  as  a  wrestler,  for  which  be  had  been  distinguished 
in  b's  youth,  he  stretched  his  antagonist  on  his  back — the 
musket  for  which  they  struggled  going  off  in  the  fall. 

The  miners  rushed  into  the  court-yard  at  Lance's  signal .; 
and  hopeless  any  onger  of  prosecuting  hi?  design  in  silence, 
Lance  commanded  two  o'tbem  to  secure  the  prisoner,  and 
the  re^t  *o  ch  >er  loully,  rnd  attack  the  door  of  the  house. 
Instant'y  the  cour..-ya.d  of  the  mansion  rung  with  the  cry 
of  "  Pe^ril  of  the  Peak  for  ever !  '  with  all  the  abuse 
which  the  RoyaJ  sts  had  invented  to  cast  uoon  the  Round- 
heads during  so  many  years  of  contention  ;  ar  d  at  the  same 
time,  while  some  assailed  ihe  door  with  their  mining  :mple- 
ments,  o  he,rs  directed  their  attack  against  ii»e  angle,  where 
a  kind  of  porch  joined  to  the  main  iront  of  the  building  ; 
and  there,  in  ..ome  d-^ree  protected  by  the  projection  of 
the  wall,  and  of  a  b/'cony  which  oveihung  the  porch, 
wrought  in  mo^e  security,  as  well  as  with  more  effect,  than 
the  others  ;  for  t/>e  dooi  ;  being  of  oak, thickly  studded  with 
nails,  of  ered  a  more  effectual  r^s'stance  to  violence  than 
the  brick  work. 

Tne  no;se  of  this  hubbub  on  the  outs:de  soon  excited 
wild  aLrm  and  turn  nit  within.  Li  :hf*  few  .  rom  window  to 
window,  and  voices  were  heard  demanding  the  cause  of  the 
tumult  :  'o  which  the  party  cries  of  those  who  were  in  the 
court-yard  afforded  a  sufficient,  or  at  lea^t  the  only  answer, 
which  was  vouchsafed.  At  length  the  window  of  a  pro- 
jecting staircase  opened,  and  the  voice  of  Bridge  north  him- 
self demanded  authoritatively  what  the  tumult  meant,  and 
commanded  the  rioters  to  desist,  upon  'heir  own  proper  and 
immediate  peril. 

"  We  wart  our  young  master,  you  canting  old  thief,"  was 
the  reply  ;  M  and  if  we  have  him  not  instantly,  the  topmost 
stone  of  your  hou*e  shall  lie  as  low  as  the  foundation." 

"We  will  try  that  presently,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  for 
if  there  is  another  blow  strucken  against  the  walls  of  my 
peaceful  house.  I  will  lire  my  carabine  among  you,  and  your 
blood  be,  upon  your  own  head.  I  have  a  score  of  friends, 
well  armed  with  musket  and  pistol,  to  defend  my  house  ; 
and  we  have  both  the  means  and  heart,  with  heaven's 
assistance,  to  repay  any  violence  you  can  offer." 


PEVERIL   OF    THE    PEAK.  340 

"  Master  Bridgenorth,"  replied  Lance,  who,  though  no 
soldier,  was  sportsman  enough  to  comprehend  the  advan- 
tage which  those  under  cover,  and  using  fire-arms,  must 
necessarily  have  over  his  party,  exposed  to  their  aim,  in  a 
great  measure,  and  without  means  of  answering  their  fire, — 
11  Master  Bridgenorth,  let  us  crave  parley  with  you,,  and 
fair  conditions.  We  desire  to  do  you  no  evil,  but  will  have 
back  our  young  master  ;  it  is  enough  that  you  have  got  our 
old  one  and  his  lady.  It  is  foul  chasing  to  kill  hart,  hind, 
and  fawn  ;  and  we  will  give  you  some  light  on  the  subject  in 
an  instant." 

This  speech  was  followed  by  a  great  crash  among  the 
lower  windows  of  the  house,  according  to  a  new  species  of 
attack  which  had  been  suggested  by  some  of  the  assailants. 

"  I  would  lake  the  honest  fellow's  word,  and  let  young 
•  Peveril  go,"  said  one  of  the  garrison,  who,  carelessly  yawn- 
ing, approached  on  the  inside  the  post  at  which  Bridgenorth 
had  stationed  himself. 

"  Are  you  mad  ?"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  or  do  you  think 
me  poor  enough  in  spirit  to  give  up  the  advantages  I  now 
possess  over  the  family  of  Peveril,  for  the  awe  of  a  parcel 
of  boors,  whom  the  first  discharge  will  scatter  like  chaff 
before  the  whirlwind  ?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  the  speaker,  who  was  the  same  indi- 
vidual who  had  struck  Julian  by  his  resemblance  to  the  man 
who  called  himself  Ganlesse,  "I  love  a  dire  revenge,  but 
we  shall  buy  it  somewhat  too  dear  if  these  rascals  set  the 
house  on  fire,  as  they  are  like  to  do,  while  you  are  parleying 
from  the  window.  They  have  thrown  torches  or  lire- 
brands  into  the  hall  ;  and  it  is  all  our  friends  can  do  to  keep 
the  flame  from  catching  the  wainscoting,  which  is  old  and 
dry." 

"  Now  may  heaven  judge  thee  for  thy  lightness  of  spirit," 
answered  Bridgenorth  ;  ''one  would  think  mischief  was  so 
properly  thy  element,  that  to  thee  it  was  indifferent  whether 
friend  or  foe  was  the  sufferer." 

So  saying,  he  ran  hastily  downstairs,  into  which,  through 
broken  casements,  and  betwixt  the  iron  bars,  which  pre- 
vented human  entrance,  the  assailants  had  thrust  lighted 
straw,  sufficient  to  excite  much  smoke  and  some  fire,  and  to 
throw  the  defenders  of  the  house  into  great  confusion  ;  inso- 
much, that  of  several  shots  fired  hastily  from  the  windows, 
little  or  no  damage  followed  to  the  besiegers,  who,  getting 
'warm  in  the  onset,  answered  the  hostile  discharges  with 
loud  shouts  of  "  Peveril  forever  !"  and  had  already  made 

vol.  i.  30 


350 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK. 


a  practicable  breach  through  the  brick  wall  of  the  tenement, 
through  which  Lance,  Ditchley,  and  several  of  the  most 
adventurous  among  their  folloAvers,  made  their  way  into  the 
ball. 

The  complete  capture  of  the  house  remained,  however, 
as  far  off  as  ever.  The  defenders  mixed  with  much  cool- 
ness and  skill,  that  solemn  and  deep  spirit  of  enthusiasm 
which  sets  life  at  less  than  nothing,  in  comparison  to  real  or 
supposed  duty.  From  the  half-opened  doors  which  led  into 
the  hall,  they  maintained  a  tire  which  began  to  grow  fatal. 
One  miner  was  shot  dead  ;  three  or  four  were  wounded  ; 
and  Lance  scarce  knew  whether  he  should  draw  his  forces 
from  the  house,  and  leave  it  a  prey  to  the  flames,  or,  making 
a  desperate  attack  on  the  posts  occupied  by  the  defenders, 
try  to  obtain  unmolested  possession  of  the  place.  At  this 
moment  his  course  of  conduct  was  determined  bjr  an  unex- 
pected occurrence,  of  which  it  is  necessary  to  trace  the 
cause. 

Julian  Peveril  had  been,  like  other  inhabitants  of  Moul- 
trassie-Hall  on  that  momentous  night,  awakened  by  the  re- 
port of  the  sentinel's  musket,  followed  by  the  shouts  of  his 
father's  vassals  and  followers  ;  of  which  he  collected  enough 
to  guess  that  Bridgenorth's  house  was  attacked  with  a  view 
to  his  liberation.  Very  doubtful  of  the  issue  of  such  an  at- 
tempt, dizzy  with  the  slumber  from  which  he  had  been  so 
suddenly  awakened,  and  confounded  with  the  rapid  succes- 
sion of  events  to  which  he  had  been  lately  a  witness,  he 
hastily  put  on  a  part  of  his  clothes,  and  hastened  to  the  win- 
dow of  his  apartment.  From  this  he  could  see  nothing  to 
relieve  his  anxiety,  for  it  looked  towards  a  quarter  different 
from  that  on  which  the  attack  was  made.  He  attempted  his 
door  ;  it  was  locked  on  the  outside  ;  and  his  perplexity  and 
anxiety  became  extreme,  when  suddenly  the  lock  was  turned 
and  in  an  undress,  hastily  assumed  in  the  moment  of  alarm, 
her  hair  streaming  on  her  shoulders,  her  eyes  gleaming  be- 
twixt fear  and  resolution,  Alice  Bridgenorth  rushed  into  his 
apartment,  and  seized  his  hand  with  the  fervent  exclamation, 
"  Julian,  save  my  father  !" 

The  light  which  she  bore  in  her  hand  served  to  show 
those  features  which  could  rarely  have  been  viewed  by  any 
one  without  emotion,  but  which  bore  an  expression  irresis- 
tible to  a  lover. 

"  Alice,"  he  said,  "  what  means  this  ?  What  is  the  dan- 
ger ?     Where  is  your  father  ?" 

"  Do  not  stay  to  question,"  she  answered  :  "but  if  yeu 
would  save  him,  follow  me." 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  351 

At  the  same  time  she  led  the  way,  with  great  speed,  half 
way  down  the  turret  staircase  which  led  to  his  room,  thence 
turning  through  a  side  door,  along  a  long  gallery ,  to  a  larger  and 
wider  stair,  at  the  bottom  of  which  stood  her  father,  surrounded 
by  four  or  five  of  his  friends,  scarce  discernible  through  the 
smoke  of  the  fire  which  began  to  take  in  the  hall,  as  well  as 
that  which  arose  from  the  repeated  discharge  of  their  own 
fire-arms. 

Julian  saw  there  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,  if  he  meant 
to  be  a  successful  mediator.  He  rushed  through  Bridge- 
north's  party  ere  they  were  aware  of  his  approach,  and 
throwing  himself  among  the  assailants  who  occupied  the  hall 
in  considerable  numbers,  he  assured  them  of  his  personal 
safety,  and  conjured  them  to  retreat. 

"  Not  without  a  few  more  slices  at  the  Rump,  master, 
answered  Lance.  "  I  am  principally  glad  to  see  you  safe 
and  well  ;  but  here  is  Joe  Rimegap  shot  as  dead  as  a  buck  in 
season,  and  more  of  us  are  hurt;  and  we'll  have  revenge, 
and  roast  the  Puritans  like  apples  for  lambs-wool !" 

"  Then  you  shall  roast  me  along  with  them,"  said  Julian; 
"  for  I  vow  to  God,  I  will  not  leave  the  hall,  being  bound  by 
parole  of  honour  to  abide  with  Master  Bridgenorth  till  law- 
fully dismissed." 

"  Now  out  on  you,  an  you  were  ten  times  a  Peveril!" 
said  Ditchley  ;  "to  give  so  many  honest  fellows  loss  and 
labour  on  your  behalf,  and  to  show  them  no  kinder  counte- 
nance.— I  say,  beat  up  the  fire,  and  burn  altogether  !" 

"  Nay,  nay  ;  but  peace,  my  masters,  and  hearken  to  rea- 
son," said  Julian  ;  uwe  are  all  here  in  evil  condition,  and 
you  will  only  make  it  worse  by  contention.  Do  you  help  to 
put  out  this  same  fire,  which  will  else  cost  us  all  dear.  Keep 
yourselves  under  arms.  Let  Master  Bridgenorth  and  I  settle 
some  grounds  of  accommodation,  and  I  trust  all  will  be  favour- 
ably made  up  on  both  sides  ;  and  if  not,  you  shall  have  my 
consent  and  countenance  to  fight  it  out;  and  come  on  it  what 
will,  I  will  never  forget  this  night's  good  service." 

He  then  drew  Ditchley  and  Lance  Outram  aside,  while 
the  rest  stood  suspended  at  his  appearance  and  words,  and 
expressing  the.utmost  thanks  and  gratitude  for  what  they  had 
already  done,  urged  them,  as  the  greatest  favour  which  they 
could  do  towards  him  and  his  father's  house,  to  permit 
him  to  negotiate  the  terms  of  his  emancipation  from  thral- 
dom 5  at  the  same  time,  forcing  on  Ditchley  five  or  eix  gold 
pieces,  that  the  brave  lads  of  Bonadventure  might  drink  his 
health  ;  whilst  to  Lance  he  expressed  the  warmest  sense  of 


Jo2  PEVERIL    OF    TUB    PEAK. 

his  active  kindness,  but  protested  he  could  only  consider  it 
as  good  service  to  his  house,  if  he  was  allowed  to  manage 
the  matter  after  his  own  fashion. 

"  Why,"  answered  Lance,  "  I  am  well  out  on  it  Mas- 
ter Julian  ;  for  it  is  matter  beyond  my  mastery.  All  that  I 
stand  to  is,  that  I  will  see  you  safe  out  of  this  same  Moultras- 
sie-Hall ;  for  our  old  Naunt  Whitaker  will  else  give  me  but 
cold  comfort  when  I  come  home.  Truth  is,  I  began  unwil- 
lingly ;  but  when  I  saw  the  poor  fellow  Joe  shot  beside  me, 
why  1  thought  we  should  have  some  amends.  But  I  put  it  all 
in  your  Honour's  hands." 

During  this  colloquy  both  parties  had  been  amicably  em- 
ployed in  extinguishing  the  fire,  which  might  otherwise  have 
been  fatal  to  all.  It  required  a  general  effort  to  get  it  under  ; 
and  both  parties  agreed  on  the  necessary  labour,  with  as 
much  unanimity,  as  if  the  water  they  brought  in  leathern 
buckets  from  the  well  to  throw  upon  the  tire,  had  had  some 
•:  ffect  in  slaking  their  mutual  hostility. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Necessity — thou  best  of  peace-makers. 
As  well  as  surest  prompter  of  invention — 
Help  us  to  composition. 

Anonymous. 

While  the  fire  continued,  the  two  parties  laboured  in  ac- 
tive union,  like  the  jarring  factions  of  the  Jews  during  the 
=iege  of  Jerusalem,  when  compelled  to  unite  in  resisting  an 
assault  of  the  besiegers.  But  when  the  last  bucket  of  water 
had  hissed  on  the  few  embers  that  continued  to  glimmer — 
when  the  sense  of  mutual  hostility,  hitherto  suspended  by  a 
feeling  of  common  danger,  was  in  its  turn  rekindled— the 
parties,  mingled  as  they  had  hitherto  been  in  one  common 
exertion,  drew  off  from  each  other,  and  began  to  arrange 
themselves  at  opposite  sides  of  the  hall,  and  handle  their 
weapons,  as  if  for  a  renewal  of  the  fight. 

Bridgenorth  interrupted  any  farther  progress  of  this  me- 
naced hostility.  "  Julian  Peveril."  he  said,  "  thou  art  free 
to  walk  thine  own  path,  since  thou  wilt  not  walk  with  me  that 
road  which  is  more  safe,  as  well  as  more  honourable.  But 
if  you  do  by  my  counsel,  you  will  get  soon  beyond  the  British 
seas." 

"  Kalph  Bridgenorth,"  said  one  of  his  friends,  "this  is  but 
;  vil  and  feeble  conduct  on  thine  own  part.  Wilt  thou  with- 
hold thy  hand  from  the  battle,  to  defend,  from  these  sons  of 
Belial,  the  captive  of  thy  bow  and  of  thy  spear  ?     Surely  we 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  353 

are  enow  to  deal  with  them  in  the  security  of  our  good  old 
cause;  nor  should  we  part  with  this  spawn  of  the  old  serpent, 
until  we  essay  whether  the  Lord  will  not  give  us  victory 
therein." 

A  hum  o{  stern  assent  followed  ;  and  had  not  Ganlesse 
now  interfered,  the  combat  would  probably  have  been  re- 
newed. He  took  the  advocate  for  war  apart  into  one  of 
the  window  recesses,  and  apparently  satisfied  his  objections  ; 
for  as  he  returned  to  his  companions,  he  said  to  them,  "Our 
friend  hath  so  well  argued  this  matter,  that,  verily,  since  he 
is  of  the  same  mind  with  the  worthy  Major  Bridgenorth,  I 
think  the  youth  may  be  set  at  liberty." 

As  no  further  objection  was  offered,  it  only  remained  with 
Julian  to  thank  and  reward  those  who  had  been  active  in 
his  assistance.  Having  first  obtained  from  Bridgenorth  a 
promise  of  indemnity  to  them  for  the  riot  they  had  commit- 
ted, a  few  kind  words  conveyed  his  sense  of  their  services  ; 
and  some  broad  pieces,  thrust  into  the  hand  of  Lance  Ou- 
tram,  furnished  the  means  for  affording  them  a  holiday. 
They  would  have  remained  to  protect  him,  but  fearful  of 
farther  disorder,  and  relying  entirely  on  the  good  faith  of 
Major  Bridgenorth,  he  dismissed  them  all  excepting  Lance, 
whom  he  detained  to  attend  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes,  till 
he  should  depart  from  Moultrassie.  But  ere  leaving  the 
Hall,  he  could  not  repress  his  desire  to  speak  with  Bridge- 
north  in  secret ;  and  advancing  towards  him,  he  expressed 
such  a  desire. 

Tacitly  granting  what  was  asked  of  him,  Bridgenorth  led 
the  way  to  a  small  summer  saloon  adjoining  to  the  Hall, 
where,  with  his  usual  gravity  and  indifference  of  manner,  he 
seemed  to  await  in  silence  what  Peveril  had  to  communicate. 

Julian  found  it  difficult,  where  so  little  opening  was  af- 
forded him,  to  find  a  tone  in  which  to  open  the  subjects  he 
had  at  heart,  that  should  be  at  once  dignified  and  concilia- 
ting. "  Major  Bridgenorth,"  he  said  at  length,  "  you  have 
been  a  son,  and  an  affectionate  one — You  may  conceive  my 
present  anxiety — My  father  ! — What  has  been  designed  for 
him  ?" 

"  What  the  law  will,"  answered  Bridgenorth.  "  Had  he 
walked  by  the  counsels  which  I  procured  to  be  given  to  him, 
he  might  have  dwelt  safely  in  the  house  of  his  ancestors. 
His  fate  is  now  beyond  my  control — far  beyond  yours.  It 
must  be  with  him  as  his  country  shall  decide." 
»    *' And  my  mother  ?"  said  Peveril. 

■'  Will  consult,  as  she  has  ever  done,  her  own  duty  ;    ami 
30* 


.554  TEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

create  her  own  happiness  by  doing  so,'*  replied  Bridgenorth, 
<{  Believe,  my  designs  towards  your  family  are  better  than 
•hey  may  seem  through  the  mist  which  adversity  has  spread 
around  your  house.  I  may  triumph  as  a  man  ;  but  as  a 
man  I  must  also  remember,  in  my  hour,  that  mine  enemies 
have  had  theirs. — Have  you  aught  else  to  say  ?"  he  added, 
after  a  momentary  pause.  "  You  have  rejected  once,  yea 
and  again,  the  hand  I  stretched  out  to  you.  Methinks  little 
more  remains  between  us." 

These  words,  which  seemed  to  cut  short  farther  discussion, 
were  calmly  spoken  ;  so  that,  though  they  appeared  to  dis* 
courage  farther  question,  they  could  not  interrupt  that  which 
still  trembled  on  Julian's  tongue.  He  made  a  step  or  two 
towards  the  door  ;  then  suddenly  returned.  "  Your  daugh- 
ter ?"  he  said — "  Major  Bridgenorth — I  should  ask — I  do 
ask  forgiveness  for  mentioning  her  name — but  may  1  not 
inquire  after  her? — May  I  not  express  my  wishes  for  her 
future  happiness  ?" 

"  Your  interest  in  her  is  but  too  flattering,"  said  Bridge- 
north  ;  **  but  you  have  already  chosen  your  part ;  and  you 
must  be,  in  future,  strangers  to  each  other.  I  may  have 
wished  it  olherwise,  but  the  hour  of  grace  is  passed,  during 
which  your  compliance  with  my  advice  might — I  will  speak 
it  plainly — have  led  to  your  union.  For  her  happiness — 
if  such  a  word  belongs  to  a  mortal  pilgrimage — I  shall  care 
for  it  sufficiently.  She  leaves  this  place  to-day,  under  the 
guardianship  of  a  sure  friend." 

"  Not  of "  exclaimed  Peveril,   and  stopped  short : 

for  he  felt  he  had  no  right  to  pronounce  the  name  which 
came  to  his  lips. 

"  Why  do  you  pause,"  said  Bridgenorth  ;  "  a  sudden 
thought  is  often  a  wise,  almost  always  an  honest  one.  With 
whom  did  you  suppose  I  meant  to  intrust  my  child,  that  the 
idea  called  forth  so  anxious  an  expression  ?" 

"  Again  I  should  ask  3'our  forgiveness,"  said  Julian,  "  for 
meddling  where  I  have  little  right  to  interfere.  But  I  saw 
a  face  here  that  is  known  to  me — The  person  calls  himself 
<ianlesse — Is  it  with  him  that  you  mean  to  intrust  your 
daughter?" 

"  Even  to  the  person  who  calls  himself  Ganlesse,"  said 
Bridgenorth,  without  expressing  either  anger  or  surprise. 

"  And  do  you  know  to  whom  you  commit  a  charge  so 
precious  to  all  who  know  her,  and  so  dear  to  yourself?" 
-taid  Julian. 

"Do  you  know,  who  ask  me  the  question?"  answered 
Bridgenorth. 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  355 

"  I  own  I  do  not,"  answered  Julian  ;  "  but  I  have  seen 
him  in  a  character  so  different  from  what  he  now  wears, 
that  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  warn  you,  how  you  intrust  the 
charge  of  your  child  to  one  who  can  alternately  play  the 
profligate  or  the  hypocrite,  as  suits  his  own  interest  or 
humour." 

Bridgenorth  smiled  contemptuously.  "  I  might  be  angry," 
he  said,  "  with  the  officious  zeal  which  supposes  that  its 
green  conceptions  can  instruct  my  gray  hairs  ;  but,  good 
Julian,  I  do  but  only  ask  from  you  the  liberal  construction, 
that  I,  who  have  had  much  converse  with  mankind,  know 
with  whom  I  trust  what  is  dearest  to  me.  He  of  whom  thou 
speakest,  hath  one  visage  to  his  friends,  though  he  may  have 
others  to  the  world,  living  amongst  those  before  whom 
honest  features  should  be  concealed  under  a  grotesque 
vizard  ;  even  as  in  the  sinful  sports  of  the  day,  called  mask- 
ings  and  mummeries,  where  the  wise,  if  he  show  himself 
at  all,  must  be  contented  to  play  the  apish  and  fantastic  fool." 

"  I  would  only  pray  your  wisdom  to  beware,"  said  Julian, 
;<  of  one,  who,  as  he  has  a  vizard  for  others,  may  also  have 
one  which  can  disguise  his  real  features  from  you  yourself." 

"  This  is  being  over  careful,  young  man,"  replied  Bridge- 
north,  more  shortly  than  he  had  hitherto  spoken  ;  "  if  you 
would  walk  by  my  counsel,  you  will  attend  to  your  own 
affairs,  which,  credit  me,  deserve  all  your  care,  and  leave 
others  to  the  management  of  theirs." 

This  was  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood  ;  and  Peveril  was 
compelled  to  take  his  leave  of  Bridgenorth,  and  of  Moul- 
trassie-Hall,  without  further  parley  or  explanation.  The 
reader  may  imagine  how  oft  he  looked  back,  and  tried  to 
guess,  amongst  the  lights  which  continued  to  twinkle  in 
various  parts  of  the  building,  which  sparkle  it  wras  that 
gleamed  from  the  bower  of  Alice.  When  the  road  turned 
into  another  direction,  he  sunk  into  a  deep  reverie,  from 
which  he  was  at  length  roused  by  the  voice  of  Lance,  who 
demanded  where  he  intended  to  quarter  for  the  night.  He 
was  unprepared  to  answer  the  question,  but  the  honest 
keeper  himself  prompted  a  solution  oi  the  problem,  by 
requesting  that  he  would  occupy  a  spare  bed  in  the  Lodge  : 
to  which  Julian  willingly  agreed.  The  rest  of  the  inhabi- 
tants were  retired  to  rest  when  they  entered  ;  but  Dame 
Ellesmere,  apprised  by  a  messenger  of  her  nephew's  hospi* 
table  intent,  had  every  thing  in  the  best  readiness  she  could, 
for  the  son  of  her  ancient  patron.  Peveril  betook  himself 
to  rest ;  and  notwithstanding  so  many  subjects  of  anxiety, 
slept  soundly  till  the  morning  was  far  advanced.       M 


o56  PEVERIL    O*     THE    PEAK. 

His  slumbers  were  first  broken  by  Lance,  who  bad  been 
long  up,  and  already  active  in  his  service.  He  informed  him, 
that  his  horse,  arms,  and  small  cloak-bag,  had  been  sent 
from  the  Castle  by  one  of  Major  Bridgenorth's  servants, 
who  brought  a  letter,  discharging  from  the  Major's  service 
the  unfortunate  Deborah  Debbitch,  and  prohibiting  her  re- 
turn to  the  Hall.  The  officer  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
escorted  by.  a  strong  guard,  had  left  Martindale  Castle  that 
morning  early,  travelling  in  Sir  Geoffrey's  carriage — his  lady 
being  also  permitted  to  attend  on  him.  To  this  he  had  to 
add,  that  the  property  at  the  Castle  was  taken  possession  of 
by  Master  Win -the-fight,  the  attorney,  from  Chesterfield, 
with  other  officers  of  law,  in  name  of  Major  Bridgenorth,  a 
large  creditor  of  the  unfortunate  knight. 

Having  told  these  Job's  tidings,  Lance  paused  ;  and  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  declared  he  was  resolved  to  quit  the 
country,  and  go  up  to  London  along  with  his  young  master. 
Julian  argued  the  point  with  him  ;  and  insisted  he  had  better 
stay  to  take  charge  of  his  aunt,  in  case  she  should  be  dis- 
turbed by  these  strangers.  Lance  replied,  "She  would  * 
have  one  with  her,  who  would  protect  her  well  enough  ; 
for  there  was  wherewithal  to  buy  protection  among  them. 
But  for  himself,  ho  was  resolved  to  follow  Master  Julian  to 
the  death. 

Julian  heartily  thanked  him  for  his  love. 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  altogether  out  of  love  neither,"  said 
Lance,  "  though  I  am  as  loving  as  another  ;  but  it  is,  as  it 
were,  partly  out  of  fear  lest  I  be  called  over  the  coals  for 
last  night's  matter ;  for  as  for  the  miners,  they  will  never 
trouble  them,  as  the  creatures  only  act  after  their  kind." 

"  I  will  write  in  your  behalf  to  Major  Bridgenorth,  who 
is  bound  to  afford  you  protection,  if  you  have  such  fear,'" 
said  Julian. 

"Nay,  for  that  matter,  it  is  not  altogether  fear,  more 
than  altogether  love,"  answered  the  enigmatical  keeper  : 
"  although  it  hath  a  tasting  of  both  in  it.  And  to  speak 
plain  truth,  thus  it  is — Dame  Debbitch  and  Naunt  Ellesmere 
have  resolved  to  set  up  their  horses  together,  and  have 
made  up  all  their  quarrels.  And  of  all  ghosts  in  the  world, 
the  worst  is,  when  an  old  true-love  comes  back  to  haunt  a 
poor  fellow  like  me.  Mistress  Deborah,  though  distressed 
enow  for  the  loss  of  her  place,  has  been  already  speaking  of 
a  broken  sixpence,  or  some  such  token,  as  if  a  man  could 
remember  such  things  for  so  many  years,  even  if  she  had 
not  gone   over  seas,  like  a  woodcock,  in  the  mean  while." 

Julian  could  scarce  forbear  laughing.     "  I  thought  you 


PEVER1L    OF    THE    PEAK.  36/ 

too  much  of  a  man,  Lance,  to  fear  a  woman  marrying  you 
whether  you  would  or  no." 

"It  has  been  many  an  honest  man's  luck,  for  all  that," 
said  Lance  ;  "  and  a  woman  in  the  very  house  has  so  many 
deuced  opportunities.  And  then  there  would  be  two  upon 
one  ;  for  Naunt,  though  high  enough  when  any  of  your 
folks  are  concerned,  hath  some  look  to  the  main  chance  ; 
and  it  seems  Mistress  Deb  is  as  rich  as  a  Jew." 

"And  you,  Lance,"  said  Julian,  "  have  no  mind  to  marry 
for  cake  and  pudding." 

"No,  truly,  Master,"  answered  Lance,  "unless  I  knew 
what  dough  they  were  baked  of.  How  the  devil  do  I  know 
how  the  jade  came  by  so  much  ?  And  then  if  she  speaks  of 
tokens  and  love  passages,  let  her  be  the  same  tight  lass  I 
broke  the  sixpence  with,  and  I  will  be  the  same  true  lad  to 
her.  But  I  never  heard  of  true  love  lasting  ten  years  ;  and 
hers,  if  it  lives  at  all,  must  be  nearer  twenty." 

"  Well,  then,  Lance,"  said  Julian,  "  since  you  are  resolved 
on  the  thing,  we  will  go  to  London  together  ;  where,  if  I 
cannot  retain  you  in  my  service,  and  if  my  father  recovers 
not  these  misfortunes,  1  will  endeavour  to  promote  you  else- 
where." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Lance,  "  I  trust  to  be  back  to  bonny 
Martindale  before  it  is  long,  and  to  keep  the  greenwood,  as 
I  have  been  wont  to  do  ;  for  as  to  Dame  Debbitch,  when  they 
have  not  me  for  their  common  butt,  Naunt  and  she  will  soon 
bend  bows  on  each  other.  So  here  comes  old  Dame  Elles- 
mere  with  your  breakfast.  I  will  but  give  some  directions 
about  the  deer  to  Rough  Ralph,  my  helper,  and  saddle  my 
forest  poney,  and  your  honour's  horse,  which  is  no  prime 
one,  and  we  will  be  ready  to  trot.5' 

Julian  was  not  sorry  for  this  addition  to  his  establishment ; 
for  Lance  had  shown  himself,  on  the  preceding  evening,  a 
shrewd  and  bold  fellow,  and  attached  to  his  master.  He 
therefore  set  himself  to  reconcile  his  aunt  to  parting  with 
her  nephew  for  some  time.  Her  unlimited  devotion  for  "  the 
family,"  readily  induced  the  old  lady  to  acquiesce  in  his 
proposal,  though  not  without  a  gentle  sigh  over  the  ruins  of 
a  castle  in  the  aw\  which  was  founded  on  the  well-saved 
purse  of  Mistress  Deborah  Debbitch.  "  At  any  rate,"  she 
thought,  "  it  was  as  well  that  Lance  should  be  out  of  the  way 
of  that  bold,  long-legged,  beggarly  trollop,  Cis  Cellok." 
But  to  poor  Deb  herself,  the  expatriation  of  Lance,  whom 
she  had  looked  to  as  a  sailor  to  a  port  under  his  lee,  for  which 
he  can  run,  if  wreather  becomes  foul,  was  a  second  severe 


358  TEVERIL    OF    THE    TEAK. 

blow,  following  close  on  her  dismissal  from  (he  profitable 
service  of  Major  Bridgenorth. 

Julian  visited  the  disconsolate  damsel,  in  hopes  of  gaining 
some  light  upon  Bridgenorth's  projects  regarding  his  daugh- 
ter— the  character  of  this  Ganlesse — and  other  matters,  with 
which  her  residence  in  the  family  might  have  made  her  ac- 
quainted; buthe  found  her  by  far  too  much  troubled  in  mind 
to  afford  him  the  least  information.  The  name  of  Ganlesse 
she  did  not  seem  to  recollect — that  of  Alice  rendered  her 
hysterical — that  of  Bridgenorth  furious.  She  numbered  up 
the  various  services  she  had  rendered  in  the  family — and 
denounced  the  plague  of  swartness  to  the  linen — of  leanness 
to  the  poultry — of  dearth  and  dishonour  to  the  housekeeping 
— and  of  lingering  sickness  and  early  death  to  Alice  ; — all 
which  evils,  she  averred,  had  only  been  kept  off  by  her 
continued,  watchful,  and  incessant  cares. — Then  again  turn- 
ing to  the  subject  of  the  fugitive  Lance,  she  expressed  such  a 
total  contempt  of  that  mean-spirited  fellow,  in  a  tone  between 
laughing  and  crying,  as  satisfied  Julian  it  was  not  a  topic  likely 
to  act  as  a  sedative  ;  and  that  therefore,  unless  he  made  a 
longer  stay  than  the  urgent  state  of  his  affairs  permitted,  he 
was  not  likely  to  find  Mistress  Deborah  in  such  a  state  of 
composure  as  might  enable  him  to  obtain  from  her  any  ra- 
tional or  useful  information. 

Lance,  who  good-naturedly  took  upon  himself  the  whole 
burthen  of  Dame  Debbitch's  mental  alienation,  or  "  taking 
on,"  as  such  fits  of  oassio  hysterica  are  usually  termed  in  the 
country,  had  too  much  feeling  to  produce  himself  before  the 
victim  of  her  own  sensibility,  and  of  his  obduracy.  He 
therefore  intimated  to  Julian,  by  his  assistant  Ralph,  that  the 
horses  stood  saddled  behind  the  Lodge,  and  that  all  was 
ready  for  their  departure. 

Julian  took  the  hint,  and  they  were  soon  mounted,  and 
clearing  the  road  at  a  rapid  trot,  in  the  direction  of  London  ; 
but  not  by  the  most  usual  road.  Julian  calculated  that  the 
carriage  in  which  his  father  was  transported  would  travel 
slowly  ;  and  it  was  his  purpose,  if  possible,  to  get  to  London 
before  it  should  arrive  there,  in  order  to  have  time  to  consult 
with  the  friends  of  his  family,  what  measures  should  be  taken 
in  his  father's  behalf. 

In  this  manner,  they  advanced  a  day's  journey  towards 
London;  at  the  conclusion  of  which,  Julian  found  his  resting- 
plsce  la  asmaii  inn  upon  the  road.  No  one  came,  at  the  first 
call,  to  attend  upon  the  guests  and  their  horses,  although  the 
house  was  well  lighted  up  ;  and  there  was  a  prodigious  chat- 
tering in  the  kitchen,  such  as  can  only  be  produced  b}r  a 


PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK.  359 

French  cook,  when  his  mystery  is  in  the  very  moment  of 
projection.  It  instantly  occurred  to  Julian — so  rare  was  the 
ministry  of  these  Gallic  artists  at  that  time — that  the  clamour 
he  heard  must  necessarily  be  produced  by  the  Sieur  Chau- 
bert,  on  whose  plats  he  had  lately  feasted. along  with  Smith 
and  Ganlesse. 

One,  or  both  of  these,  were  therefore  probably  in  the  lit- 
tle inn;  and  if  so,  he  might  have  some  opportunity  to  discover 
their  real  purpose  and  character.  How  to  avail  himself  of 
such  a  meeting,  he  knew  not ;  but  chance  favoured  him  more 
than  he  could  have  expected. 

"I  can  scarce  receive  you,  gentlefolks,"  said  the  landlord, 
who  at  length  appeared  at  the  door  ;  "  here  be  a  sort  of  qua- 
lity in  my  house  to-night,  whom  less  than  all  will  not  satisfy; 
nor  all  neither  for  that  matter." 

"  We  are  but  plain  fellows,  landlord,"  said  Julian  ;  "  we 
are  bound  for  Moseley-market,  and  can  get  no  farther  to- 
night.    Any  hole  will  serve  us,  no  matter  what." 

"  Why,"  said  the  honest  host,  "  if  that  be  the  case,  I  must 
e'en  put  one  of  you  behind  the  bar,  though  the  gentlemen 
have  desired  to  be  private  ;  the  other  must  take  heart  of 
grace,  and  help  me  at  the  tap." 

u  The  tap  for  me,"  said  Lance,  without  waiting  his  mas- 
ter's decision.  "  It  is  an  element  which  I  could  live  and 
die  in." 

"The  bar,  then,  for  me,"  said  Peveril ;  and  stepping 
back,  whispered  to  Lance  to  exchange  cloaks  with  him,  desi- 
rous, if  possible,  to  avoid  being  recognised.    . 

The  exchange  was  made  in  an  instant ;  and  presently  after- 
ward the  landlord  brought  a  light ;  and  as  he  guided  Julian 
into  his  hostelry,  cautioned  him  to  sit  quiet  in  the  place 
where  he  should  stow  him  ;  and  if  he  was  discovered,  to  say 
that  he  was  one  of  the  house,  and  leave  him  to  make  it  good. 
11  You  will  hear  what  the  gallants  say,"  he  added  ;  "  but  I 
think  thou  wilt  carry  away  but  little  on  it  ;  for  when  it  is  not 
French,  it  is  court  gibberish  ;  and  that  is  as  hard  to  con- 
strue." 

The  bar,  into  which  our  hero  was  inducted  on  these  con- 
ditions, seemed  formed,  with  respect  to  the  public  room, 
upon  the  principle  of  a  citadel,  intended  to  observe  and  bri- 
dle a  rebellious  capital.  Here  sat  the  host  on  the  Saturday 
evenings,  screened  from  the  observation  of  his  guests,  yet 
with  the  power  of  observing  both  their  wants  and  their  be- 
haviour, and  also  that  of  overhearing  their  conversation — a 
practice  which  he  was  much  addicted  to,  being  one  of  that 
numerous  class  of  philanthropists,  to  whom  their  neighbour'^ 


360  PEVERIL    OF    THE    PEAK. 

business  is  of  as  much  consequence,  or  rather  more,  than 
their  own. 

Here  he  planted  his  new  guest,  with  a  repeated  caution 
not  to  disturb  the  gentlemen  by  speech  or  motion  ;  and  a 
promise  that  he  should  be  speedily  accommodated  with  a 
cold  buttock  of  beef,  and  a  tankard  of  home-brewed.  And 
here  he  left  him,  with  no  other  light  than  that  which  glim- 
mered from  the  well  illuminated  apartment  within,  through 
a  sort  of  shuttle  which  accommodated  the  landlord  with  a 
view  into  it. 

This  situation,  inconvenient  enough  in  itself,  was,  on  the 
present  occasion,  precisely  what  Julian  would  have  selected. 
He  wrapped  himself  in  the  weather-beaten  cloak  of  Lance 
Outram,  which  had  been  stained,  by  age  and  weather,  into  a 
thousand  variations  of  its  original  Lincoln  green  ;  and  with  as 
little  noise  as  he  could,  set  himself  to  observe  the  two  in- 
mates, who  had  engrossed  to  themselves  the  whole  of  the 
apartment,  which  was  usually  open  to  the  public.  They  sat 
by  a  table,  well  covered  with  such  costly  rarities,  as  could 
only  have  been  procured  by  much  forecast,  and  prepared  by 
the  exquisite  Mons.  Chaubert ;  to  which  both  seemed  to  do 
much  justice. 

Julian  had  little  difficulty  in  ascertaining  that  one  of  the 
travellers  was,  as  he  had  anticipated,  the  master  of  the  said 
Chaubert,  or,  as  he  was  called  by  Ganlesse,  Smith;  the 
other,  who  faced  him,  he  had  never  seen  before.  This  last 
was  dressed  like  a  gallant  of  the  first  order.  His  periwig, 
indeed,  as  he  travelled  on  horseback,  did  not  much  exceed  in 
size  the  bar- wig  of  a  modern  lawyer  ;  but  then  the  essence 
which  he  shook  from  it  with  every  motion,  impregnated  a 
whole  apartment,  which  was  usually  only  perfumed  by  that 
vulgar  herb,  tobacco.  His  riding-coat  was  laced  in  the  new- 
est and  most  courtly  style  ;  and  Grammont  himself  might 
have  envied  the  embroidery  of  his  waistcoat,  and  the  pecu- 
liar cut  of  his  breeches,  which  buttoned  above  the  knee, 
permitting  the  shape  of  a  very  handsome  leg  to  be  completely 
seen.  This,  by  the  proprietor  thereof,  had  been  stretched 
out  upon  a  stool,  and  he  contemplated  its  proportions,  from 
time  to  time,  with  infinite  satisfaction. 

The  conversation  between  these  worthies  was  so  interest 
ing,  that  we  propose  to  assign  to  it  another  chapter. 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


